The Fixer
by VonGikkingen
Summary: She has a very specialized set of skills. She's the person they call whenever there's been a case of machinery getting attacked by a lightsaber...
1. Chapter 1

**… _long time ago on Starkiller Base…_**

"I know – you're wondering what's a girl like me doing in a place like this. I mean it's not like you had a shortage of mechanics before…" I said to the Stormtrooper designated to make sure I didn't get lost. "It's kind of a funny story actually."

"This way," was all I got out of him in a way of reply.

Not unexpected, considering I took the wrong turn. Again. Though that wasn't on me. You can't have a base size of a planet and expect people to know their way around.

"So I was having a quiet night in and the next thing I knew the whole neighborhood was on fire and some psycho cut off a piece of my droid while he was raging over not finding some map. Skywalkers, am I right? Anyways, I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances. I somehow made myself stop glaring at all the Stormtroopers trampling my front lawn, went for my tool bag and started fixing the droid. Yeah I know," I said to the expressionless helmet looking back at me. "I don't consider it a normal human reaction either. But in my defense, when everything's on fire and you feel sure you're about to be shot it's very easy to find that one thing you just might be able to change."

The Stormtrooper gave no indication that he heard anything I've been saying. Smiling to myself I said, "Such a good listener."

"In there," he said only, pointing me towards a room that was clearly the scene of the latest overreaction. The smell of burnt plastic was a dead giveaway.

"So there I was, fixing things as best I could," I continued, determined to go on reminiscing whether he paid attention or not. "I worked on as the Stormtroopers rounded up my neighbors and barely paid any attention to the Sith waltzing around all threatening. I just kept on doing my thing. For a second there I almost thought they'll just ignore me…"

They _didn't_.

Someone of appropriately high rank took one look at what must have appeared to be incredible ability to keep my cool under pressure and decided they could use someone like me on their team. And by the time someone noticed how uncooperative I was and how much personality I was manifesting it was too late to ask for a refund.

So here I was, rolling my eyes at yet another roomful of smashed machines. "You know, I really thought my life would go differently," I said to the unresponsive Stormtrooper as I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

This mess wasn't going to fix itself.

 **…** _ **later that day…** _

"Second time today… Seriously? You know, at this point I don't even bother asking myself what the point is. He's clearly off his medication permanently now. But how am I not supposed to feel like I'm wasting my life fixing things he's just going to smash again…?"

The Stormtrooper nanny assigned to me only turned his expressionless helmet at me, offering no comment. No surprise there.

It was damn near impossible to get any reaction out of them. I was starting to suspect that the only reason they still tolerated me around here was that I was their way of testing just how well their brainwashing worked. Anyone who managed to spend an hour with me and my complaints about the latest pile of smouldering machines I was supposed to get back to working order without responding to any of my not-quite-rhetorical questions was pretty much unsalvageable as a normal human being.

Tragic, really. I'd be really upset about it if only there wasn't my own situation to depress over.

After all, here I was doing a job I hated for people who basically grabbed me and told me _here's a black uniform, you work for us now_. When it came to tragic backstories I was right there with my white-armored colleagues. The only difference was I was not issued with a gun... Possibly because I'd be tempted to turn it on myself.

"Do you ever just stop and look around? You know, appreciate the weirdness? No? Is that just me?" I said to the Stormtrooper, pretty certain he wouldn't tell me even if he did. "Life, am I right? You think you have it figured out - and then it becomes a series of rooms someone had a temper tantrum in…" I sighed.

I worked in silence for a few minutes. Not out of any concern for the Stormtrooper's mental equilibrium, though. I just had a bad feeling. Based on my previous experiences it was only a matter of time before Phasma or someone equally scary and freakishly tall showed up to ask whether their pet Sith managed to ruin something irreplaceable this time and I preferred to save all my sass for that conversation.

I was taking my time digging through exposed cables, almost enjoying myself as I did so. Risking electrocution was one of my favorite things to do long before the First Order supplied me with reasons to stop clinging to life. Though from the look of this today was not going to be the day…

Oh well – there was always my other coping mechanism.

"Have I ever told you my theory about why this operation is doomed to fail? It's basic math. For every kid they snatch they create two pissed off parents ready to join the resistance. And that's two _minimum_. You know what they actually did by _recruiting_ me? The very next day my mom, my brothers, whole bunch of my cousins _and_ my grandma joined up with the rebels. That's right – somewhere out there there's an eighty year old lady staring at a monitor and choreographing attacks at your outposts… You're as good as finished as far as I'm concerned," I said conversationally to the Stormtrooper.

He didn't seem particularly worried. But then again he never met my grandma. "You have maybe weeks to live. If you're lucky," I said with a smile, digging in my toolbag.

I went back to work, feeling I was getting closer to complaining about Kylo I-know-it's-not-your-real-name Ren with every half-melted component I had to remove. I usually managed to get back to that several times before I was done. One really couldn't help thinking about him while doing this job. It was either that or contemplating the pointlessness of all this – and I very much preferred to do the former.

Maybe it was the part of me that wished he overheard me while I was making one of my sick-of-your-shit-Sith-lord speeches. That's how I knew my life couldn't get any worse. I was actually looking forward to getting force choked simply because there were worse ways to die. Though it had a lot more to do with the fact that there were so very few worse ways to live... Which definitely explained my recent tendency of eyeing Stormtrooper weapons.

"Damn Skywalkers," I said glaring at the damaged control panel. "Because it is _all their fault_ , you know…? They made a mess and the rest of the galaxy has to just deal with it. I mean didn't they think of actually making a thorough job of destroying the Empire? Didn't it occur to them to _make sure_ they got everyone? You can't cut of the head – on a spur of the moment, in the middle of _yet another_ family drama – and just assume that everyone will just go back to democracy. It's not like they didn't know how big an organization it was. _Of course_ it wouldn't just fall apart because you killed one guy…"

"When you're finished with your analysis of historical events," came a familiar voice from behind my back, "perhaps you could tell me how long you're going to take."

"Captain," I said, turning around to find my previous Stromtrooper nanny was replaced by a far shinier equivalent. I gave her my best fake smile.

She just stood there giving off a pretty overwhelming I'm-glaring-underneath-this-helmet vibe. She seemed to do that every time she was forced to interact with me. "He didn't slash through too many important connections so for once I won't have to rewire the whole thing. That should save time," I said doing the barest minimum to keep my annoyance from my voice. "Why? Do you need me to be somewhere else…?"

Somehow I had the feeling her glare intensified, though of course she didn't reply. We didn't talk about the fact that they always made damn sure to keep me as far from their mind-reading sociopath as they could. I guess we all knew how that meeting would go.

"Get back to work," said Phasma, which was her standard response.

"So… did you do anything fun over the weekend?" I asked offhandedly. It wasn't as though she had any illusions about me actually shutting up after being ordered to do so. She knew me better than that. And I knew her counter-intuitive orders about not shooting me no matter how openly I provoked her which made this into a challenge for me. "I was going to go to the range, but apparently I'm not allowed anywhere near loaded weapons. Now tell me, is it because I might go on a killing spree or because I might go goodbye-cruel-world and end this fascinating social experiment prematurely…?" I continued as I tugged at a huge melted mess of clearly unsalvageable components.

Phasma, predictably, gave me absolutely nothing in a way of reply.

I expected nothing less of her. She was a real pro. She could completely ignore me for hours, no matter what rebellious thoughts I was voicing. In another life - one in which she wasn't an evil sociopath working for an organization of evil sociopath - these quiet moments of mutual dislike could have evolved into a bromance.

In this life though I just kept digging through the exposed innards of the machinery in front of me. I managed to do that in silence for whole ten seconds before deciding to try again. After all, this was all I really had in way of entertainment. "Just out of curiosity – how's that armor? Comfy? Because if it's been designed by the same person who designed these uniforms… I mean that guy clearly doesn't know he needs to make accommodations for female anatomy…" I glanced down at my chest uncomfortably squeezed in the too-tight jacket.

"Do you want me to shoot you…?" answered Phasma surprising the hell out of me.

" _Yes, please._ "

She had no comeback to that. If I didn't know better I would think she was surprised by how genuinely whiny that sounded.

Still, she decided not to help me out of this circle of hell in which I found myself. Oh well – if she wasn't willing to pull the trigger there was always Kylo Ren. All I needed was one chance to get close enough to yell _your helmet looks stupid_ and judging by how he treated machinery that never did anything to him I was pretty damn sure he'd end me before I could add what I thought about his war criminal of a grandfather.

But judging by how closely I was guarded at all times the management knew all that too. "So I know someone upstairs decided this is somehow a good idea – to let me run around without being put through conditioning so I can provide normal human reaction… but _you_ don't like it. I can tell you don't like it. You're definitely frowning under that helmet," I said glancing at her over my shoulder. "So why not make both our lives easier and arrange for me to have a little accident…?"

She didn't answer. Though she did incline her head ever so slightly in a direction of a camera that almost definitely recorded me saying all that. Great. I just basically guaranteed she'll make damn sure I'll never as much as stub my toe, in case someone remembers me saying all this.

The more I tried the more the universe conspired to keep me alive. It seemed I was made to suffer.

"And _done_ ," I said a couple of minutes later, to my own amazement. I was getting really good at this… I should probably try to hide it before they decided they needed me in Unstable Sith HQ. "Just need a new panel to put over it."

"The service droids can see to that. Let's go…" said Phasma, grabbing me by the elbow and dragging me out of the room.

I should have seen her presence for a suspicious anomaly it was. It was only as I was being quickly escorted through the corridors that it occurred to me that he might still be around. That would definitely explain the rush, not to mention why I had the huge Stormtrooper babysitting me again, even though they went with the normal sized non-shiny ones these days.

"You do get how weird this is, right? I don't want to live, you hate keeping me alive… Darth Fanboy would probably love to kill someone just on principle… Why do we even bother?"

"I have my orders."

I glanced up at her. She probably said that automatically, because it in no way answered my question. "Let's change them. I'm serious. Take me to the general – I bet you it'll take him five minutes around my personality to decide it's alright to shoot me after all…"

I sensed her hesitation. Some part of her must have thought this was a good idea – but it clearly wasn't enough for her to let go of me so I can run down the corridor proclaiming my love for the resistance or something equally suicidal. "Won't work," she murmured almost too low for me to hear.

"Why not?" I said, sounding pretty whiny even to myself.

"Because he met you."

Those words confused me no end, until I realized she might be actually right. I distinctly remembered an interaction or two back when I was first brought here and proclaimed a _civilian consultant_. Of course. It was all coming back to me now. Part of me always suspected this was someone's twisted idea of a joke, but having it confirmed changed things. All my suicidal thoughts were suddenly quieted by a new, unexpected feeling of purpose, that was in turn pushed aside by another, just as appropriate emotion. _Fury_.

" _I'm going to kill that ginger bastard_ …"


	2. Chapter 2

**… _Starkiller Base -_ _five minutes later…_**

"Let go of me, dammit," I repeated, still refusing to stop struggling. Or yelling. I wasn't quite done doing either.

It was one thing to tell myself they kept me around to test how their brainwashed soldiers reacted to an actual human being, and a completely different thing to _know_. To have someone to blame for the weeks of progressively more suicidal thoughts and slow resignation to the fact that I'll live out my life right here, in these monochromatic rooms and if I ever wanted to see a color that wasn't either black or white I better get hold of something sharp and start cutting.

"It's an experiment, isn't it? It's a goddamn _experiment_ to you people. How long does it take to break someone just by the proximity to all this… this… gratuitous villainy," I said, wishing I had a lightsaber to slash stuff with.

"You need to _calm down_ ," said Phasma.

" _You_ need to tell me where I'll find Hux. No wait, show me where is the room with the evil dentist's chair first. I'll be needing that. And don't even try to tell me there isn't one. Of course there is. This place is called _Starkiller Base_ … There's probably a whole level dedicated to torture devices."

She just looked at me, once again managing to let me know how she felt without removing her helmet. It was like a superpower with her. "You think this is just me being melodramatic… It's not. You can tell it's not by my last name not being Skywalker. _I'm going to kill him_. Well, eventually. First I'm going to kill his pet and make him watch. I'm…"

"Unarmed and unable to navigate the base without assistance. You're no threat to anyone."

"I'm _desperate_ ," I said ominously.

In the silence that followed I almost believed she understood what that meant. Something about her demeanor changed, just the slightest bit and I _knew_ I was being taken seriously for once. Good. If there was something the First Order deserved it was for their captive comic relief to turn lethal.

We just stood there in that unpleasant tense silence as I tried to calm my breathing. I never even noticed when she dragged me into this room to keep me out of sight as I was very loudly coming to terms with the new information that completely changed my outlook on why my life sucked. I might have been a little too busy yelling. But now that I was paying attention to my surroundings... and my surroundings seemed to be made entirely of screens with security footage on them...

" _What is that_?" I said, momentarily forgetting how angry and murderous I was feeling. "I mean, I know what it is. It's _the evil dentist's chair_. But what is that unconscious girl doing in it?"

"She has information we need," said Phasma.

"He's watching her sleep. Are you seriously going to stand there and pretend it's not weird? Because _wow_ ," I said, glaring at her. I took a step closer to the screen. "This is where we should draw the line. I get that you guys have your evil quotas, but _come on_ … That's a tied up teenager."

"It's not as bad as it looks."

"Yes, _it definitely is_. I mean what does he do – does he just go _what would grandpa do_ and tries to go one further? What's next? Slaughtering toddlers? Strangling pregnant ladies…?"

" _Calm down_ ," said Phasma. I don't think she was ever closer to actually pointing a weapon at me and I was past caring.

"I mean what kind of psychopaths you have running this operation? Did I get really lucky to be fixing your broken stuff instead of being tied up in some dark room somewhere… you know what, don't answer that. I'm just… going to curl up in a ball in that corner over there," I said, feeling very tired all of a sudden. "I'll just sit for a while. Try not to cry. Fail, probably…"

To my surprise she let me do just that. Maybe she was glad that my anger burned itself out this quickly. Who knew? Who cared…?

I was done. This was it. They had what they always wanted - me with all my skill and calmness under pressure minus the attitude.

I thought I heard her footsteps as she left the room but didn't actually bother to look up to make sure. She was probably on her way to give Hux the good news - and even that thought didn't make me snap out of it. I could always hate him later. Right now I was going to just sit here and wait... wait for someone to come in and finally dispose me as they probably wanted to ever since they realized what a mistake they made bringing me aboard. Or simply wait. Just wait for galaxy to sort itself out and this Evil Empire to collapse, much like the last one did, under the assault of a magic teenager or a princess or someone...

But of course all I got was half an hour alone with my dejected thoughts before I saw a Stormtrooper poke a helmeted head into the room to announce they needed me on one of the upper levels.

I didn't even have the energy to give her a snarky comment about what _I_ needed from the people on the upper levels. It would probably go right over her head anyway. Sense of humor was one of the things the First Order seemed especially interested in removing. In the end I just got up and started walking. And stopped walking as my field of vision once again filled up with screens running security footage.

Despite trying my hardest to tell myself I really didn't want to know what went on in that room I took one last look… which stopped me in my track.

"Did he just…?" said the Stormtrooper next to me, her voice conveying the same level of disbelief I was experiencing. Well, maybe not the same level, since mine actually left me speechless.

It even took me some seconds to realize that this was the first time I ever heard a trooper's voice that wasn't completely emotionless. I would have commented on it if only I wasn't too busy staring at the face of the man I blamed for my predicament for weeks now.

"So he's actually human," I said with a small laugh that was anything but amused.

"Why isn't there sound…?" said the Stormtrooper stepping closer to the console. I clasped my hand over hers before she could enact any changes to what we were witnessing.

"Do you _really_ want to know what they're saying?" I sure didn't. I didn't want to know where that little scene was going. Part of me just wanted to run out of this room and maybe never stop running… too bad it didn't get a say as I stood here, completely paralyzed and unable to look away.

"I'm just going to go ahead and say it. That looks way too weirdly intense to be a normal interrogation," said the Stormtrooper.

Something about the confused quality of her voice finally made me snap out of it and really look at her. Because even her expressionless helmet could no longer hide that this was no ordinary trooper. This was the mythical creature I was looking for all along – someone who was actually capable of normal human reactions.

I hoped it wasn't just the shock of seeing the big bad wolf unmasked at last. "Who are you…? I mean don't tell me your damn designation number, that would just depress me. Just keep saying normal human things. This is doing me a world of good."

"I wasn't… I didn't…" she replied, sounding suddenly panicky.

So it _was_ the shock that forced the humanity back into her voice. And now she was realizing that she would be sent straight back to reconditioning if I ratted on her. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," I said with what I hoped was reassuring smile. But who knew if the Stormtroopers even had the capacity to recognize what a smile was. "Look, you were sent here to get me. We should probably go before they get suspicious. Unless you want to tell them you couldn't find me so I can go up to the surface…"

"Why would you want to go to the surface?"

"I haven't seen the stars in forever," I shrugged having no better explanation than that. The whole truth was that I haven't seen s sky, _any_ sky, for far longer than any human being should while still being expected to stay sane. And I meant to remedy that. It was on my to do list right after disemboweling Hux.

"There aren't any stars. It's really sunny out, actually," she said, sounding somewhat apologetic. This was officially my favorite Stormtrooper nanny, whoever she was.

"Oh well… Let's go wherever I'm supposed to go then," I said, deciding to just let her follow her orders. I was perfectly fine with getting myself killed over insubordination, but I drew the line at sacrificing anyone else so I can have a moment. "What do they want me to fix anyway? It better not be the damn trash compactor. It would be the third time this week. Or wait – is it the holo projector? I glanced that thing the other day and there's definitely something wrong with the settings. I mean the Emperor looks _huge_."

"Supreme Leader," she corrected me.

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes. No way I was calling him that.

"Actually I don't think they want you to fix anything. Captain just said to go fetch you. If you broke something to make you fix it first and then get you up to the control room as fast as I can."

I blinked a few times trying to comprehend what I was told. "Why?" I asked suspiciously.

"No idea," shrugged the Stormtrooper. Actually _shrugged_. I smiled at her and her suddenly rediscovered humanity as I followed in silence. I was a little preoccupied trying to decide if I was worried about Phasma's sudden interest in keeping me in sight or simply glad for this clear sign of being taken as a serious threat. Either way I felt like hurrying.

I had the feeling things were about to get interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

**… _in the control room…_**

There was a perfect moment to say "Why are the shields down?" and I let it pass me by.

I just stood there as everyone ignored what to me looked like obvious signs of an imminent attack by the rebel forces. And I _let them_ ignore it all. I even did my very best to keep the evil smile that very much wanted to take control of my lips from doing so, as I stood in a corner, all quiet and well-behaved. I also never once mentioned that there was supposed to be one very shiny Stormtrooper on the premises and there was something rather suspicious about her absence, especially since it was her idea to get me up here, into a room I definitely didn't have the right clearance for.

When I finally spoke it was in a whisper that almost got lost in all the worried chatter of the people running this monstrosity. "Hey," I said glancing sideways at the secretly-human-underneath-this-helmet Stormtrooper by my side. "Do you need both of those weapons?"

"If you're suggesting I give you one…" she whispered back.

"I'm not going to use it here in front of everyone," I promised, though I suspected that wasn't the issue she was having with that proposition.

"I'm not giving you a weapon," she said firmly.

Oh well, it was worth a try.

"Where do you think Phasma went?" I whispered after a moment. There was only so long I could keep my silence. But before she could give a reply I realized our conversation wasn't as inconspicuous as I thought it was. Someone noticed. The worst possible someone…

"What are you doing here…?" said Hux turning to the corner where I did such a poor job of being inconspicuous. He looked all kinds of suspicious. Luckily he clearly had plenty of other things to worry about. I knew that if I just kept my expression innocent for long enough he'll lose interest and go back to yelling orders at everyone in sight...

"Why did you bring her here?" he asked the Stormtrooper since I was clearly not going to volunteer any information.

"In case something breaks," I said quickly, drawing his attention back to me. "And something always does. How do you even have to ask? You know how this works. Calling me is literally the second thing you do, right after you finished saying _this is why we can't have nice things_."

All the noises in the room seemed to die down just at that moment. It felt as though the whole universe was holding its breath. And since I couldn't abide that kind of drama, not being a Skywalker, I found myself ending the moment with "Regretting the don't-shoot-the-fixer order yet…?"

"Get her out of here," he said to the Stormtrooper.

I did _not_ appreciate his tone and briefly considered going for her weapon... but then I remembered I was nowhere near synchronized enough to pull that off and the most likely result would be me shooting myself. Still, it was a pleasant daydream.

"You know I bet something breaks the moment I'm out of sight," I said loudly as I was being walked out. He didn't reply. Probably trying to forget I existed. That seemed to be his go-to strategy when it came to dealing with me and my inability to appreciate how much higher in rank he was.

I felt inclined to let him, too. I was feeling generous - especially since I realized he never should have given order so easy to misinterpret. "Well that was pretty vague, wasn't it? I don't know about you, but I'm going to take it as a permission to go outside," I said to my white-armored warden.

For a moment I thought she might argue. Then she did something that convinced me beyond any doubt that we were going on an adventure. She looked around to make sure we were unobserved and took her helmet off...

 **… _on the surface…_**

"How about Elsa…?" I said, scrutinizing her in the unnatural sunlight of the soon-to-be-gone star. "Or maybe Ariel?"

"You really don't have to give me a name."

But of course I did. She was the person responsible for getting me out here into the fresh air and snowy landscape - into the daylight I tried to forget meant we were just in process of killing someone's sun. The least I owed her was a name. "Merida…?" I tried again.

"You are actually going to keep doing this just so you can ignore the rebels flying overhead, aren't you…?"

I shrugged. "Don't take this the wrong way, but… The rebels are actually good news. Considering the shields were down last time I checked, I feel pretty positive this place is about to go the way of the Death Star. Which is _good_. For the galaxy, that is. Not so good for us, but…"

"I don't think I actually mind dying," she said. The calmness in her voice told me she wasn't putting on a brave face either. She didn't mind. Laying in a snowbank with her face turned to the unnaturally lit sky she didn't mind it at all.

"I would be right there with you just a few hours ago. I was so done with all this. But…" I said, unable to figure out where I was going with this. "There's this part of me that has something to live for all of a sudden. The absolutely worst something there is," I sighed. "I'm pretty sure it leads straight to the Dark Side."

"Revenge…?"

"Revenge," I confirmed.

It seemed a little petty and unimportant in the greater scale of things, but it was still very much on my mind as I lay there, making a snow angel underneath the sky alive with one hell of an aerial battle.

"I was there, you know," she said softly after a moment. "The day we took you. I remember. You were exactly like us those first few minutes after we got you into the ship. Just sat there motionless, completely numb. But then Phasma walked by and you covered your eyes like she blinded you with her shiny armor," she laughed at the memory. "And I knew you'll be alright."

I smiled back at her, remembering it myself. I tried to keep that long-ago, emotionally exhausting trip to Starkiller Base out of my mind for the most part, but it felt safe remembering it now. It might have been my last chance, after all.

"I think that was when I screwed up. I _was_ like one of you then. For a moment I was just this hollowed out thing… But I remembered who I was again and I refused to let go of myself again." A horrible thought occurred to me then. "Was that why Hux did this? Because I came back…? Became human again after being so completely gone...? What a twisted, evil bastard."

"I heard Kylo Ren ordered to keep you alive," she replied as a TIE fighter exploded above us.

"I better not find out they made a bet on how long it will take to break me again. They're both already on the top of my hit list as it is," I said as a few pieces of burning debris fell into a nearby snowbank. "So… Nala…?"

"I actually kind of liked Elsa."

I looked at her to try to determine if she looked like Elsa or not, but just then the last of the sunlight died dramatically. "I guess you'll get to see the stars after all," she said with a smile that was almost painful to look at, it was so innocent and pure and… human. I forced myself to look back at the sky so she wouldn't see my expression. If I wasn't vengeful before I most certainly was now.

"Do you think they started evacuating yet – or are they arrogant enough to let everyone die because they refuse to believe they could lose?" I said after a while.

"Of course they started evacuating. No one would be stupid enough…"

"I guess they never told you about the first Death Star," I said, finding it incredibly funny for some reason.

"I think it's time for you to go. If you're going to make it," she said. There was too much left unspoken in just those few words and I felt cold for the first time, even though I spent over an hour lying in the snow.

I didn't want to leave her here to die… But I knew better than to try to change her mind. I had no right to take this decision from her, not after so much was taken already. "Goodbye, Elsa," I said giving her a hug before I scrambled to my feet.

I gave her one last look over my shoulder as I left just to make sure, but she looked exactly as human as I thought she would. Not a hollowed out shell anymore - a real girl. In the faint starlight she was all the things they tried to take from her.

I brushed off the half-frozen tear before it got halfway down my cheek and picked up speed. There was a ship I needed to catch.


	4. Chapter 4

**_… aboard the Finalizer..._**

"You smell like a trash compactor. Still shiny though. How do you do that…?" I grinned up at Phasma as I slipped passed her. "Oh what? You didn't think you'll get to leave me behind, did you?"

If I didn't know better – which I didn't, not with the helmet obstructing my view of her face – I would be almost tempted to believe she was relieved to see me boarding the ship. Well, she seemed to be the only one.

"Is that blood?" I said, turning my attention to Hux who was clearly less than delighted to see me again.

"Not mine."

I didn't even try to hide my disappointment at those news. "Whose is it then? Oh _what_? Is that above my clearance…?"

He didn't answer. Something about the way he didn't answer gave me an idea about who's been bleeding around here, though. My smile only grew wider.

"So… we're evacuating. I'm going to take that as a sign that we're about to lose our doomsday weapon," I said enjoying the look on his face those words provoked. "Do you need me to break the news to Darth Ben…?"

Neither of them answered. Something about my cheerfulness in the face of such destruction probably made them dismiss everything I just said as words of someone on the edge of hysteria. "Well, if you change your mind I'll be over there," I said and walked over to the nearest uncomfortable flat surface that would definitely not pass as a chair anywhere civilized. I quietly cursed the First Order and their weird repressed culture. They didn't even allow us comfy chairs...

I sat down and waited for something to happen. Judging by the noises coming from the outside all manner of interesting things were going on dangerously close by. I was almost sorry I wasn't seeing them. All that left me with was looking in the direction of the general doing my best impression of the evil glare he so excelled at - but it wasn't as satisfying as I thought it would be. And then there was Phasma, joining me here in the uncomfortable chair territory.

"You need to stop saying things like that. He's going to remember it," she said with just a trace of an emotion I didn't quite have the time to identify.

"Oh, let him. It's not as though he was a fan before. And he might actually let me do it. Talk to Mister force-makes-me-better-than-the-rest-of-you. It would be excusable - we're all having a pretty stressful day here, after all. No one will blame him for it. I know I won't. I'd love that, actually – high time I had some face-to-face with Darth..."

"This is going to be a long journey," she said, cutting me off before I got too far in my monologue. She sure sounded like she was having a stressful time of it. This really was a day for Stormtroopers to surprise me with being a lot more human than they first appeared.

"A journey? So we're not just evacuating? Oh don't tell me we're going on a road trip," I grinned and sunk deeper into my chair.

It was only then that it occurred to me I had no idea where we were headed. And though Phasma might have told me if I bothered to ask, I decided I'd prefer it to be a surprise. Who knew – maybe we were off to see the Emperor. A normal, human-sized Emperor. Yet another scenario that would offer me a perfect chance to get myself killed. There was no way I'd be able to keep to myself any comment about over-compensating when it came to his holographs.

I started humming to myself. An old, haunting melody I believed was known as _The Imperial March_. Hux immediately started glaring at me. I wondered if anyone ever told him there was more than one facial expression.

"If you want to say something just say it," I said with a smile that was bound to piss him off even further.

"There are escape pods on this vessel. Take one and…"

"Can't fly," I said stopping him before he got too hopeful about the chances of being rid of me.

"Not my problem."

I laughed.

Couldn't help it. It wasn't a hysterical laughter either. I was finding all this genuinely amusing. "I'm not going anywhere. Not when I have the front row seat to see all this," I grinned. "I mean look at you. You must feel pretty much the way I felt ever since I was told I'll be joining up the First Order. And I was taken from my home, my family, _the_ _sky_ … But you know, I have the feeling that before this is all over things will get a lot worse. And I am going to be there. I'm going to _watch_ and enjoy every second of it. If it ever goes so far that you try to end it _I'll be there_. I'll be the person that will confiscate your weapon, because after all you've done you don't get to take the easy way out."

He stopped glaring and just watched me trying to figure out where was all this quiet fury coming from. "We had reasons for keeping you alive all this time, though I can't really seem to recall any right now. Keep using that tone with me and I might decide you have outlived your usefulness..."

"Oh well," I shrugged, not giving a damn about his not-so-subtle threats. If that was the case, then I was going to speak my mind even louder than before. "You know, I thought it was mainly about Ren, what with Skywalkers being just the worst. But if I'm being honest with myself... I _really_ want to see you suffer. There it is. There's just something about you that makes me wish I had my blowtorch on me," I said with a smile that must have instantly made me look like the most evil person in the vicinity. Quite an achievement considering who else was in this room with me.

"What the hell was he thinking when he told us not to shoot you…?"

"Why don't we go ask him?" I said brightly and got up to my feet. "The timing is just about perfect. I bet he could do with a distraction."

I didn't bother waiting for an answer, just begun walking in the direction the smell of antiseptics and beeps of med droids were coming from. Which is why it freaked the hell out of me when I realized he actually followed me.

"Are you suicidal?" he hissed, grabbing my arm and forcing me to stop.

"Yes. _Yes I am_. Why is everyone so surprised by that? Just what did you people expect will happen after what you did to me…? Do you imagine I carry around this inner reserve of will to live? I don't. I'm _human._ We're pretty damn fragile when it comes right down to it. And why the hell am I trying to explain this to you? You're a lost cause if I ever saw one," I said with anger that had a lot to do with Elsa and very little with him. " _Now where's that damn Sith…_ "

I stopped talking. Judging by the look of malicious amusement that just lit up his face _that damn Sith_ was standing right behind me. I did the only thing I could in that situation. I turned around _very slowly._

"Oh wow… that's one impressive scar."


	5. Chapter 5

**_... fifteen hours later... far, far away from the First Order…_**

I wasn't entirely sure how I survived, but that was nothing new. For now I filed that away under inexplicable-and-possibly-force-related and focused on more immediate problems.

The escape pod I was stuck in did have communication equipment which was technically good news. It meant I could call out for help and hope any Resistance vessel that might be within hailing distance won't take one glance at me in my First Order means of transportation and my First Order uniform and… But I had to risk it. I was left with no other options. I typed in appropriate series of orders, took a deep breath and waited for whoever was out there to tell them the good news. They were about to take the most obnoxious prisoner of war in the history of the rebellion.

Considering my future prospects I almost wished I behaved in a way that didn't get me thrown out. Oh who was I kidding – it wasn't as though I had any control over the stuff coming out of my mouth, so it was always only a matter of time before they got sick of me.

But before I could get too far in analyzing all the mess on the Finalizer there were beeps coming from my console trying to get my attention. "I know, I know, I look just like one of the bad guys. But would a bad guy ever say _Supreme Emperor Snoke looks like he needs to change his plastic surgeon_ ," I was saying before I was even done taking in the face that just appeared on my screen.

"I guess some things never change," said Freya.

"Why cousin," I replied as a smile completely took over my face, "has no one ever told you orange is _not_ your color?"

" _Grandma_ …! I found her! And she immediately made me forget why we wanted her back in the first place," said Freya half-turned away from the screen. But smiling. Smiling with relief I had hard time reconciling with people who were seeing _me_ on their screens. "We'll be in your location in about an hour, there are some asteroids in the way… it will require some careful maneuvering," said Freya turning back to me.

"Shouldn't you let someone else do it then?"

"You know, they thought that being a captive of the First Order would mellow you a bit," she replied shaking her head. "But I told them – it would take a lot more than a bunch of power-hungry sociopaths to make that one to tone it down. And here you are. Still so _thorny_ …"

I thought I was going to reply, but her last word made my witty retort die on my lips. I forgot what it felt like being called anything other than _the fixer_ or _hey you_. True, Phasma called me a nuisance once or twice, but I was pretty sure it was not meant as a term of endearment.

"Look, I'm going to switch you over to grandma so I can focus on navigating, alright?" said Freya giving me one last I'm-still-glad-to-see-you-though-I-can't-explain-why smile.

And then I was looking at another familiar face.

"You look a mess, thorny."

"Thanks grandma," I grinned. "You on the other hand… I mean you're really pulling off the big-deal-in-the-resistance look."

"That's because I am," she said half seriously. "So are you going to tell me how you got away…?"

"No. I need to do _a lot_ of thinking before I can even begin explaining that one. But I _am_ going to tell you why the resistance will be really pleased to have me," I said unable to keep from glancing down at the blood smeared on my palm. "I come bearing gifts."

"This is when I'm supposed to say you're the only gift we could ever wish for, but… You know it _would_ be nice to have a good reason for why we commandeered a ship without asking permission just to come chase after one wayward girl…"

"I don't think wayward is synonymous with abducted, gran," I said with a frown.

"So they did take you then. You didn't… you know… join up…"

" _Grandma_ …" I said with outrage that was at least halfway genuine. I knew she was only joking... well... I was almost sure she was. "I _didn't_ join up. I was just being my usual awesome self and apparently you don't want to do that in the view of the First Order. Also there was this thing with Kylo Ren – but I am not getting into that, I honestly just want to forget all about it so I can pretend I live in a sane galaxy where people can't dig through your mind."

"They told us you completely ignored there was a shootout going on around you," said grandma with a frown. The why-are-you-like-this-I'll-never-understand frown I knew so well. I've been seeing it a lot growing up.

"Yeah. That was my first mistake. There were others. Long story short, I still don't quite understand how I'm in one piece."

"It's almost as though something wanted to keep you alive. Something very powerful."

"Did you just try to blame it on _the force_? You know you can't use that thing to explain away everything that's just a little inexplicable," I said, faking exasperation. It felt safer than admitting that for once she might not be entirely wrong about force interfering with our lives.

"Of course I can. Now – you said you come bearing gifts…"

"Well, yeah. Depends on what you consider a gift. How much does the resistance want a sample of Sith blood…?" I said raising my hand so she could see the dried blood darkening it. "Because _this_ isn't mine."

"I'm almost scared to ask…" began gran.

"I didn't do anything too suicidal. But he was bleeding… I mean that's pretty much the sum total of what he's up to right now. So I decided to take advantage of the situation. I mean, I'm pretty sure we can't use it to clone a better, less moody version – but we should still _try_ because the original is just…"

But my words died right there. Considering that I spent the entirety of my stay on Starkiller making less-than-kind comments about him it should be no problem for me to go ahead and add another one, especially now that I was no longer risking my life doing so. Except that was _another_ Kylo Ren. That was this shadowy figure in a clearly unnecessary mask and attitude problems on the scale of my own. Unfortunately that person no longer existed… I tried to recall him and simply couldn't, because his place was taken by the other one. The thoroughly beaten one. So I forced that whole train of thoughts off the rails and turned my attention back to the present.

"Well, if that's not enough, I have a list for you," I said dropping my bloody hand out of sight.

"A list?" replied grandma doubtfully.

"Of names."

"Still not sounding like the secret weapon the resistance always wanted…"

I grinned and begun typing, because the only way of convincing her seemed to be actually showing her. It didn't take long – but in my defense I was on the Finalizer for less than fifteen hours before they decided they were officially sick of me. "Sending it to you now."

I saw her expression turn to frowning confusion as she read it. "What are these? Stormtrooper designation numbers…? And the last one is general…"

"Yep. He's _definitely_ on the list," I said, feeling my smile turning evil at the very thought. "Look, it's a list of people you want to take alive given the chance. You do that and I can make them talk. Let me have a go and the resistance can maintain the moral high ground and still get all the intel they want. No torture involved."

"You forget I know how you talk to people. I think it might actually qualify as torture. It is scarring enough."

I gave her an alright-grandma-you-win-this-round glare and sat back just watching her familiar wrinkled face for a while. Considering how quickly everything happened I didn't yet take the time to really let it sink in. I was being rescued. I was safe from the First Order, as unbelievable as that was.

But the First Order was by no means safe from me.

 ** _… one asteroid field later…_**

To say I wasn't a fan of group-hugs would be an understatement. I was not a very touchy-feely person – more of a stabby-stabby one as my mom liked to say. But just this once I was going to make an exception. So when the doors of the escape pod opened and I saw relatives in numbers greater than our family gatherings usually attracted I let them draw me into one all the same.

Of course it didn't last long.

"Freya… what are you trying to…" I said, stepping back from the huddle of my relatives. I was no longer wearing my jacket and Freya was looking at me as though she was looking for… what? Bruises? Cigarette burns?

"Is that blood?" she said murderously seeing the red smear across my palm.

"It is. It's also not mine."

"Told you she put up a fight," said my uncle – a man who never called me anything other than _that troublemaker_ – sounding curiously proud.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that I didn't get blood on me by breaking noses, but by helping disoriented Sith back to the med bay before he passed out from blood loss. I wasn't entirely sure that was a safe thing to admit to now that I was surrounded by rebels – even if most of them were family. Plus it was really hard to explain even to myself. Pretty much everything that happened aboard the Finalizer in the few very long hours since the destruction of Starkiller Base was a series of perfectly twilight zone moments.

"They didn't…?" said Freya uncertain how to even formulate that question.

"Torture me? No. Not physically, anyway," I said, making a face to let everyone this wasn't just me being brave. "I guess you've been imagining all kinds of worst case scenarios, huh? Truth is it wasn't that bad. I mean the food was terrible and those uniform are possibly the least comfortable pieces of clothing in the galaxy, but…"

" _Wasn't that bad_ …?" repeated one of the resistance pilots standing outside of our family circle. I wasn't sure if he sounded amazed or doubting my sanity. Either way it seemed to be the appropriate reaction.

"I have high tolerance for evil," I shrugged. "I admit I was kind of losing it by the end… Might have been cabin fever. They didn't exactly take me out for walks."

At that grandma begun laughing and drew me into another hug. I let her. Maybe I even enjoyed it a little, though I wasn't going to admit it. We weren't that kind of family. We pretty much used up our year's quota of affection in the last two minutes.

"So what do we do now?" I said when she let me go.

"We go home," announced Freya in a very serious tone. And ruined it immediately by adding, "I mean not _your_ home. That burned down. Oh, you know what I mean. We're off to the home base."

"I better change then. No way I'm arriving in the middle of a rebel camp dressed like a First Order… lieutenant…?" I guessed studying the sleeve on the jacket Freya handed back to me after she made sure I wasn't purple underneath it. "Or whatever these squiggles mean. I never understood where I fit in within their hierarchy anyway. They called me a civilian consultant sometimes, but that was just because it sounded better than _captive_."

"She seems to be dealing with it well," said the rebel pilot as he followed Freya to the cockpit.

"Yeah, that's kind of her thing," I heard Freya reply before she got out of hearing.

Smiling to myself I looked around to see if there was anyone feeling like another hug. Didn't look like it. "Clothes…?" I repeated since no one seemed to catch the previous hint. "Preferably something that's not monochromatic…"


	6. Chapter 6

**_… off to the Home Base…_**

"So I'd ask you if you want to talk about it, but I'm pretty sure you'll start to complain about the weirdest things…" said Freya collapsing in a chair opposite me. She pushed a cup of hot chocolate across the table, which was definitely the right strategy.

If I knew that's what it will earn me I'd be sitting here staring into middle distance with a very confused expression hours ago.

"I do want to talk about it," I admitted.

Freya just sighed. "Alright… Regretting it in advance, but I'm doing this. What do you mean by _it_ …?"

I took a sip from the cup and let the sweetness flood my system as I sat there in complete silence. I knew I needed to say it out loud if I hoped to ever begin getting over it. I knew it, Freya knew it… The fact she was here ready to offer some free therapy spoke volumes. After all, last time I checked I was not exactly her favorite cousin.

So I took a deep breath and just made myself say it. "It's… Kylo Ren…"

"What did that bastard do? We're going to get him and skin him alive, thorny…"

My first reaction – one I chose not to go with, for obvious reasons – was to put my chocolate down and give her a hug simply for how seriously she clearly meant what she just said. So instead I just shook my head and said "I used to feel like that. Except louder. _That_ ," I waved in her direction, to indicate the promise of barely restrained violence that pretty much radiated off her, "was my whole thing just a day ago. I hated him for so many terrible reasons – and one or two actually appropriate ones, too."

"And now…?" she said, clearly confused by my tone.

"And now I _can't_ hate him anymore. That's what he did to me… the worst thing he could possibly do to me. What do you do when you realize that monsters are actually human?"

"Remember that that alone doesn't excuse them?" she suggested.

"You didn't see him. He was… just… _broken_ in this terrible fundamental way that had nothing to do with his physical injuries. I didn't know what – don't _want to_ know what he's been through just before Starkiller was destroyed. I know it was _bad_ ," I said grimacing when I realized, even as I said it, that that word didn't even begin to cover it. And by the flicker of understanding in Freya's eyes she could tell me if I only asked her. But we both knew I wouldn't.

I didn't really care what happened to him. Having an answer wouldn't change the fact that there was no Kylo Ren for me to hate anymore – that he was replaced by someone I could only feel sorry for.

"I'm sure you'll find someone else to hate," she said. As a joke. So why did I find it so strangely reassuring?

"Oh I do have that," I smiled.

Freya stiffened – seeing something in my eyes no doubt. "Right. You're going to give me a name and we won't stop until we find him and destroy him…"

"No. I mean yes, obviously, we're doing that," I corrected. "But you need to stop jumping on any chance to turn into a goddess of vengeance. I'm not lying about how things were in the First Order. I wasn't mistreated. Not in any of the obvious ways you're thinking of. It was more subtle than that – and I'm not even sure they knew they were doing it. They just gave me the worst possible job they could… doing the same thing over and over, knowing he'll just break it all again."

"Did they seriously just have you fixing things? Don't they have like… _armies_ of mechanics of their own, brainwashed and obedient. What they needed you for?"

"You know I have weird responses to stressful situations. Something that can't be replicated, not by any amount of post-hypnotic suggestions, apparently. I guess it sounded like a good idea in theory…" I grinned despite myself. "I made them rethink that one, that's for sure."

"I still have hard time believing…" she shook her head.

"So do I. I _know_ it happened. I've been there for the whole of it. But at the same time there's part of me that feels certain that it shouldn't have. Most of it is just so… _unlikely_ ," I gestured vaguely. She smiled and quickly raised her hand in front of her face to hide it from me. "And don't you _dare_ to talk about _the force_ looking out for me. Last time I checked it wasn't sentient."

"But how sure are we it doesn't have a sense of humor?"

"You know as well as I do that force only takes notice of people whose last name is Skywalker," I frowned. And tried to ignore the fact that of course there _was_ a Skywalker involved in my personal drama. He was the very person who gave the order not to shoot me the first time I forgot myself and called Hux General Soulless to his face...

"Alright then. It's not important _how_ you made it out alive as long as you did. And you were cutting it pretty close," said Freya, shaking her head. She could see the funny side now, but we both knew was worried for me every second of every day I spent among the worst sociopaths in the galaxy. It must have been the weeks without my cutting remarks allowing her to forget that they were actually my kind of crowd.

"How did I make it out alive, though…?" I wondered. That still bothered me.

Freya frowned at me. "Didn't you steal an escape pod?"

"Of course not. Why would I? I was off to meet the Emperor. The Supreme Leader," I translated, seeing her confused expression. "I know this is a terrible thing to admit, because I should have been trying to escape. I should have been doing that since day one. It would be a lot saner than what I was actually doing."

"Looking for some spectacular way to die?" guessed Freya. That clearly didn't surprise her.

"Yeah. And you don't get any more spectacular than meeting the supreme evil presence and calling him something rude to his messed up face. So yeah, I wasn't planning any daring escapes. _Don't tell grandma_ ," I added quickly, realizing what I just admitted.

"You forget, thorny. She met you. Pretty sure she knows."

I took another swallow of the hot chocolate and tried to force myself to stop wondering who I had to thank for being once again a free agent – free to wreak havoc on the galaxy in any way I chose rather than as the mere minor nuisance I was forced to be in order to survive. Because part of me really needed a culprit. I couldn't just blame it on the force.

"You would actually stay there if they let you, wouldn't you…?" asked Freya, in a tone that told me she already knew the answer.

"Of course. And it's not what you're thinking. Not that bonding-with-your-captors syndrome. It's _not_ ," I said, seeing her doubtful expression. "I wanted to stay because… well, it wasn't good for them. Me being right there in their midst and saying whatever I felt like saying – you know, while fixing things to remind them they needed me and shooting me for insubordination was still not a very good option. It was not good for their morale. Confused the hell out of them. And maybe they were some I was helping break out of the conditioning. I did it once already, back on Starkiller."

"That I have no trouble believing," she nodded to herself.

"I don't think it was all on me though. She was just… ready to be human again. For the last few moments she had left."

And just by saying it – saying it with that bitter-sweet smile the memory of Elsa always seemed to bring on my face – I once again summoned Freya-the-goddes-of-vengeance. "Right. _Who_ do we blame for Stormtrooper conditioning and what are we going to do to him?"

"Well His Supreme Evilness for one. And Hux. Definitely him. You know he tried to have _me_ conditioned back when I first arrived?" I laughed to myself. "Long story short, I'm pretty sure I broke the evil psychoanalyst they had evaluating me. I made a gingers-don't-have-souls joke, he laughed… something about the Stormtroopers that came take him after he did that made me think it might be a shooting offense…"

"So you naturally kept doing that."

"Naturally. What else do you do in an evil lair the size of a planet? Besides… it _was_ the best way to fight them."

"So… this helped, right?" asked Freya after we sat there in there in silence for a while.

"It did," I admitted. "I mean I still have this bloody, beaten mental image of Kylo Ren haunting me and I still mourn a girl I knew for all of two hours and had to give a name so I have something to remember her by and…"

"So you're better," translated Freya.

"Yeah," I nodded, smiling down into my now empty cup. "A lot better."


	7. Chapter 7

**_… almost home..._**

"... anyway, there I was yelling at Hux… can't quite remember what about. Pretty sure he deserved it though. And then I turned around and there he was," I said to the exasperated rebel captain who was probably used to debriefings to be a lot more to the point. All he asked me was how I got into the escape pod and I guess he expected to have the answer in under a minute.

That was half an hour ago.

Still, something in his expression changed as I said that. "So Ben Solo _is_ alive?" he asked, sounding strangely relieved for someone who just had confirmed that one of his enemies was still breathing after his serious near-death experience.

"Just barely. I'm pretty sure he wasn't aware of his surroundings. I wouldn't be alive if he was. I… might have said something about the scar. To his face."

I shut up for a second, taking the time to fully appreciate how close to dying I got in that moment. It should have been my last one. Those should have been my last words. And yet… But no, I refused to blame that on the force. That was just grandma's superstition rubbing off on me. I didn't survive because some all-powerful force wanted me alive and insulting everyone in my field of vision. I survived because Kylo Ren wasn't conscious enough to know he should have force-choked me for that comment.

The rebel captain took advantage of my momentary silence to repeat his original question. I smiled at him. Something about him thinking that by surprising me by it while I was distracted might get him the short, simple answer he wanted all along was almost cute. I guess he didn't quite understand how this worked. "Someone wanted me off that ship, that much I'm certain of. I have some suspicions, but I just can't know for sure. It wasn't Solo," I frowned. "No way he was up to giving people orders…"

"Orders?" repeated the captain, visibly confused.

"Yeah. I was minding my own business, dealing with a faulty droid, telling it my life's story – droids are such good listeners, aren't they?"

"And what happened then?" he said quickly, trying to keep me from going off on a tangent again.

I just shrugged. "Two Stormtroopers showed up. Told me there was something that needed fixing. That was the standard procedure, so I didn't think much of it at the time. But when I realized we were headed for the part of the ship where they kept escape pods all kinds or warning lights started blinking up here," I said with an exaggerated gesture. "So I stopped walking and told them to take their helmets off."

"Why?"

"Because that sometimes worked. You know, since no one knew where exactly did I fit in within the hierarchy… like another Sith, just confusing people with how much authority I actually had. Some Stormtroopers just assumed that when I gave an order it needed to be obeyed. These two did," I shrugged. "Removed their helmets, anyway."

"Why is this significant?" he asked, clearly getting only more confused by my retelling of events.

"Because I was able to tell right away it wasn't their idea. They looked too… apologetic, I guess. _They_ didn't want to be rid of me. But they had their orders."

"Of course you're just deducing that. They didn't actually say so."

"They didn't have to."

Thinking back to that moment I felt completely positive that was what happened. Someone got sick of me and didn't want to deal with the verbal abuse I'd unleash while being forced into the escape pod, so he sent a couple of underlings to take care of it. Deep down I knew who that someone was, of course. But that was not relevant to the resistance and only gave me a headache when I tried to understand the _why_ behind it so I just kept that suspicion to myself.

"I still don't see why they didn't just… dispose of you," said the captain in a tone that told me he knew I just realized something and he was not happy about me not sharing it. "It would save them the cost of an escape pod."

"I know you don't see. But you will. You just need to spend some time around me and it will all become very clear," I smiled to myself. "I have effect on people. They know they should dislike me, that they are unable to recall a single instance when I was anything other than rude and short-fused… And yet…"

"Are you trying to tell me that someone within the First Order let you get out alive because you're _likeable_?"

"Not the word I'd go with, but… yes, basically."

He was clearly not buying it. Too bad – I had no better explanation to give him. There simply wasn't one. My tendency to get to people who should have known better had once again saved me. It also prevented me from having a go at insulting His Evilness himself. But with me apparently being in the resistance now there was still some hope I might get to meet Snoke someday. I was already making a mental list of things I'd like to comment on when that day came.

"Is there someone in particular you suspect of ordering your release?" asked the captain, as I knew he would.

"Nope," I said. He gave me I-can-tell-you're-lying glare so intense I was almost tempted to change it to _maybe_.

"Alright then. Let's talk about your list. One name in particular."

I sat up straighter, feeling strange compulsion to at least attempt to take this seriously. This guy was a lot better than I first suspected. Yes, it must have been that. No way I was that easy to read. "What about him?" I replied, since we both knew who we were discussing.

"You truly believe that if we were ever to capture him you can make him talk. Divulge First Order secrets," he added, speaking slowly. The way one does trying to simplify something very complex to a child.

"Yes," I said simply. I truly believed that, after all.

"We're talking about someone who ordered the destruction of a whole system," the captain added in that same I-know-you're-only-pretending-to-understand-this-youngling tone.

"Yes."

" _How_? I understand your personality inspires certain fondness in people…"

"Oh yes – in _people_. But we're talking about Hux," I said, giving up my serious expression right there. "You might know he ordered the destruction of the Republic, but _I heard the speech he made as he did that_. I have heard him use the words _acceptable_ and _losses_. In that order. While talking about _people_. You have no idea who he is. _I do_. And _yes_ , if you manage to apprehend him I _will_ make him talk… Don't give me that you're-emotionally-compromised look. I'll have you know this is my calm face."

"Then why did you raise your voice…?" he said clearly not buying it.

"This is as calm as my voice ever gets. Alright, fine…" I sighed. "I'll tell you. I… had a friend on Starkiller. If I told you any more about her you would probably have some reservations about using that word – but you don't get a say. She _was_ my friend. And I'm _glad_ that she's dead. I was glad of it even back when I could still try to save her. It meant there was nothing more they could ever take from her. That she got to make at least one decision that was all her own. Have you ever felt _relief_ as you watched a friend decide to die? I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy… I do wish it on him, though," I couldn't help adding.

"If that was meant to convince me you're not emotionally compromised…" started the captain.

" _Of course_ I'm emotionally compromised. I'm also extremely motivated. I'm telling you – you capture him, I'll make him talk," I said, trying my best to sound persuasive.

And I must have done something right because after momentary hesitation he said "I don't know why but… I think I believe you."

I just smiled. Well… this debriefing sure went better than expected. "Now… do you have something that needs fixing? I think my nerves could do with some calming right about now."

 ** _… later, in the Ileenium system…_**

"Mom… I can't breathe…" I said, trying to disengage from the hug.

"She's actually turning blue," added Freya coming to my rescue. In the end it took my brother physically separating us for me to be able to get some air.

"I thought… Oh, thorny…" she said through tears. I had a feeling she'll be needing a few hours before she'll be able to articulate how she felt about this unexpected twist. Seeing her like that I was feeling pretty awful about the fact I didn't escape the Finalizer under my own volition. I hugged her again to distract myself from the guilt I absolutely deserved to be feeling. "Oh you look so skinny…"

"I look just fine, mom. Come on, let's take this somewhere private…" I looked around the completely unfamiliar surroundings and noticed that our family drama was drawing quite a lot of attention. Most of the people watching seemed pretty happy for us – still I didn't feel like doing this in front of an audience. Though I guessed the resistance was forever in a need of a morale booster, what with how badly outnumbered they were.

"Oh, pull yourself together girl," said grandma handing my mom a tissue. "Didn't I tell you we'll be seeing her again? Takes more than those fanatics to slow this one down. Just look at her," she smiled proudly. "Unstoppable."

For once I had no quick comeback. Not even a comment for all the rebels enjoying the show. I just stood there, my fingers itching for some exposed electrical components to play with as they usually did when I didn't know what the next obvious course of action was.

"General…" said someone in the murmur of onlookers. I turned around quickly, glaring in advance.

"I've heard a great deal about you, young lady," said the woman who immediately became my favorite general ever – which was pretty understandable considering the only competition she had. Of course that alone couldn't stop me from saying something completely inappropriate

"I'm pretty sure this has nothing to do with your parenting, but… your son is a mess. I'm sorry but it needs saying. I mean I thought _I_ had a temper…"

I could see Freya in my peripheral vision, moving closer and clearly getting ready to put a hand over my mouth to stop me from making things even worse. "But," I said, because with that out of my system there was still a lot to add, "that seems such a minor issue now. The last time I saw him he was just… alive," I said quickly. That was the part she absolutely needed to know if she felt anything like my own mother. "He was very much alive. I'm sure he'll be just fine. Lightsaber wounds are self-cauterizing and…"

"You're exactly as advertised," said the general, exchanging a look with my grandma. That didn't quite manage to hide from me that I just gave her good news, even if I could have been more delicate when it came to the actual wording.

She was relieved to know he was alive and that didn't exactly surprise me. What did surprise me was how glad I was that I got to bring her good news. This was a woman who have been through some incredibly bad times and that made her someone one just wanted to give something, anything, to bring her hope.

"I'm sorry. That might have been a bit out of line. I just thought you'd want to know," I said quickly.

She gave me a short nod of acknowledgement and just like that the awkward moment that was waiting to happen just… didn't. Instead, as though some secret signal was given, all the rebels around us remembered they had work to do. The world begun moving again and that filled me with my own kind of hyperactivity. Until I remembered my toolbag was back at the Finalizer.

"We'll get you some tools," said Freya reading my expression.

"In under five minutes? I _really_ feel like fixing something…"


	8. Chapter 8

**_… the Ileenium System, some time later…_**

"We need to talk about this…" said Freya in a tone I would expect from my mom. Except she knew better than to try to parent me…

"Define _this_. This habit I have of making everything around me work…?" I said, not taking my eyes off the components spread on the floor around me. "This incredible contribution I'm making to the war effort? Because guess what – everything _works_ around here now."

"Yeah. _Everything_ works," said Freya in a tone that let me know she was giving me time to figure something out for myself. I sighed and put down the calcinator I was glaring at for five minutes now.

"Why are you saying it like it's a bad thing?"

"Because I know how you are when everything works. When there's nothing left to fix," she said with a frown, "and you have suddenly all this time on your hands. And you turn… well, thorny. Except _more_."

"Your point?"

Freya sighed and sat down on the ground, with the pile of faulty electronics between me and her. "You can be pretty unbearable. And demoralizing. I didn't mind the idea of you being that way to the First Order, but these are the good guys and they're dealing with a lot even without you being… What? What did I say?"

I wanted to answer her, but I found one of my hands was covering my mouth, making the movement automatically as though I somehow suspected I might begin screaming in the next second or two. I didn't. It was pretty close though. "Oh… of course…"

" _What_ just happened?" said Freya, making no secret of how much I was freaking her out.

"I… I think I know why he just let me go," I said and realized I was smiling in a distant, dreamy way. I was going to get angry about it very soon, but for now – for as long as the initial shock kept me numb – I was simply amused. Amazed. Both.

"Are you going to tell me?" asked Freya after she gave me all the time with my own thoughts she was willing to spare me.

"I _am_ demoralizing, aren't I?" I said, still unable to get rid of that astonished smile. "I am exactly the kind of person that shouldn't be here, pointing out we're underdogs and have no hope of winning this war…"

" _Yes_ ," confirmed Freya, clearly not seeing where I was going with this.

"That… frakking…" I said clenching my fists to prevent myself to go all Kylo Ren on everything in my line of sight. "He tried to weaponize me."

"You already _are_ weaponized, thorny."

"Yes, but… I think it might be his twisted idea of psychological warfare. And the worst part is that it would absolutely work… But he didn't know about you," I said with a chuckle that sounded just a touch hysterical to me. "He didn't know he was sending me back to my family. If he did I would never make it out of that ship alive."

"Come on, now," said Freya, clearly having some trouble believing it. "I know hating that guy is your only hobby these days, but…"

"He didn't just want to be rid of me. He wanted to harm the Resistance at the same time… I mean who even thinks like that?" I said, getting up to my feet. I felt like pacing. I needed to do something about all this energy suddenly surging through me and I refused to take the Kylo Ren route. I might be mad, but I refused to be break-some-equipment kind of mad. "You know, this makes things so much worse… If it was just that I'm, you know... all the things I am... I think I would be alright with that. There are days when I'd throw myself out of the airlock just to shut me up, and _I am me_. But this is just..."

"Evil?" guessed Freya. "I mean if you're right it would be one _evil_ plan."

"Yeah. No. I think we need a new word for him – evil just doesn't really do the trick," I said as I kept pacing.

I was weaponized all right. It wouldn't take a whole lot to set me off in the state I was in right now… "I feel like calling grandma to deal with you, but I'm also pretty sure I shouldn't leave you alone when you're like this," said Freya as she watched me pace.

"I'm fine actually," I said and stopped.

The fact that I wasn't lying surprised even me, though this was something I really should have seen coming. "This is… better. Better than what I was doing since I came here. At least now I can stop wondering. And fixing things. Because you're right, I _was_ running pretty low on things to do," I gestured towards the pile I've been dealing with when she came in. "I was taking inventory for the last ten hours. I was going to volunteer for the med bay next, because fixing machines and fixing people can't really be that different, right?"

"I'm almost scared to ask what are you going to do instead of fixing…" said Freya. And seeing my evil, evil smile she didn't even finished that thought.

 ** _… later that day…_**

"What do you mean we can't just do that? We know their frequencies – how hard is it to send them a message…?" I said, feeling like grabbing this communication officer and shake him out of his current attitude.

"What did we say about keeping our tone civil…?" said grandma chidingly. I turned to her with did-that-tone-ever-work-on-me look that made her sigh with exasperation. " _Thorny_ , why don't you go wait outside while I take care of this?"

She was probably right about that being my best course of action.

That didn't mean I managed to leave without one last glare aimed at the poor rebel who didn't know that _no_ is not a word he wanted to use in my presence. Ever.

"I'd tell you not to terrorize my staff, but I suspect it would be pointless," said general Organa when I almost walked into her on my way out.

"That's what I've been sent here to do," I said automatically. "I mean… I'm sorry. But they did tell you I was emotionally compromised, right? Someone must have put that in a memo or something. Also I'm not doing a great job of hiding it."

"Would you like to talk about it?" she said kindly, almost disarming me right there.

"No. I'd like to yell about it – and I will, just as soon as they patch me through to the First Order…"

Judging by her smile I must have said something very amusing. I sighed, trying to let go of my barely suppressed anger. It didn't quite work, but then I didn't expect it to. All I could really hope for was bringing my voice down to some more reasonable volume. "I just… I want him to know how spectacularly his evil plan failed. It would make me feel a lot better, you know? I can be back to my usual sweet and cuddly self."

She openly laughed at that one and that helped a little. "I'm sorry," I said again. I've been using those words with her a lot now that I thought of it. "It's just that I _know_ it will ruin his day to know how badly he screwed up…"

"And it will make your day to tell him."

"Well, yes… that too," I admitted, smiling a little. "I know we fight for bigger, ideological reasons and all that. I've been trying to keep that in mind, but… that's just not going to work. To me this is _personal_. You get it."

"Thorny…" called grandma from her communication console, before the general could answer. Not that she needed to. She did get it. She was about the only person around here who took all this more personally than me.

"I won't give you a headache with the details, because it will take a _lot_ of doing to get the message to the First Order. You just go ahead and record it now, alright? You need the catharsis," she said as she gestured for me to sit down.

"Thanks, gran," I said softly. And then I was alone in the room. Just me and my white-hot anger to keep me company. "Right. Let's do this…"

And then I just sat there for whole five minutes, saying absolutely nothing. It was a case of having so much to say I simply didn't know where to start. Of course I should have gone with the half-genuine thanks for reuniting me with my family which wouldn't just tell him he screwed up big time, but also made everyone else who might come across my message wonder if he perhaps didn't have a heart after all. That would end his carrier pretty quickly, considering how the First Order felt about that kind of thing. It would be the perfect revenge…

So why was I sitting here in silence, not saying any of it? "Let's do this," I repeated and leaned over the keys with a half-formed plan.

I wasn't going to just sit here talking to myself hoping it might get to him one day. That wasn't what I needed. I just had to figure out how to do this without announcing my current location... Which proved to be quite a headache of a technical problem. But there was nothing I couldn't do when I was sufficiently motivated. And I felt _very_ motivated.

 ** _… some time later, in a faraway corner of the galaxy…_**

"Did you miss me?"

"No."

"Didn't think so. Just calling to let you know your evil plan failed. I mean it backfired so spectacularly… Let me put it this way. Not an hour after I've been ordered to get into that escape pod I was getting a hug from my grandma. I know, right? What a coincidence that the ship that picked up my distress signal was full of my relatives. Care to guess what made them joint the Resistance?"

"What do you want?"

"Oh I just got it. The look on your face. Priceless. But it gets better… I've been a real asset to the Resistance ever since I showed up. General Organa said – and this is a quote – that they'd be lost without me. So much for me demoralizing the hell out of your enemies. Anyway. That's enough about me. How are you? And how's Phasma? Still shiny?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Reminding me I made the right call getting rid of you."

"You're _not_ rid of me. Don't ever think that. Actually I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again very soon. The Resistance is very interested in getting their hands on you."

"The Resistance is…"

"Understaffed and underfunded and probably a bunch of other things on top of that. But they did manage to blow up your favorite toy. Now what does that say about the First Order?"

"Are you done?"

"Almost. Just one last thing…"


	9. Chapter 9

**_…meanwhile at the Resistance Base…_**

"She's been in there for a really long time. I think we should go in to check on her," I heard Freya's voice from the other side of the door. And knowing that tone I was suddenly regretting I didn't take the time to lock myself in here – because it was only a matter of seconds before she came barging in.

So I guess I better make this quick.

I turned my attention back to Hux and smiled at his perpetual death glare. I was _not_ impressed. "I hate you," I said.

"I know."

He broke the connection just as Freya walked in. "Tell grandma she was right," I said looking at her over my shoulder. "Oh what? You look ready to tell me _you're in so much trouble young lady_. Which would be hilarious, considering I'm six years older than you."

"What… what just… _What_ did you do?"

"I'm not entirely sure. But it was therapeutic," I smiled. I felt very calm which was… new. I intended to enjoy it while it lasted. Which wasn't going to be long, obviously.

"Did you just let the First Order know where we are just so you can yell at some psychopath…?"

"Alright, first of all - he's not just some psychopath," I said, still in that calm voice I had trouble identifying as my own. "And no, of course I didn't let the First Order know where we are. Trust me a little. I made sure to confuse the hell out of their tracking algorithms. And when that happens parts overheat. Some become _very_ flammable. Pretty sure people are starting to ask if anyone else can smell smoke right about now. _That's_ what I did. Just by making one call. Would you stop glaring at me? I'm being awesome here. Where's your happy face?"

"Hiding behind my incredulous face."

I got out of the chair, walked up to her and gave her a short hug that only made her what's-happening-right-now expression more confused. It did me a world of good to see her like that. For years she's been the most if-we-weren't-related-I-would-have-killed-you-long-ago person in our whole clan and the fact that I still had the capacity to surprise her made my already wonderful mood better.

"Let's go outside. I think I want to look at the stars for a while."

"Aren't you looking… happy," said grandma as she saw me walk out with confused Freya in tow.

"Happy," I repeated. "Oh _yeah_. That's the what you call this."

They only exchanged disbelieving looks at the new, unnaturally calm me and followed me outside. I slowed down, giving them a chance to catch up. The stars looked magical tonight - I wanted to share them with someone. I wanted to know they brought joy to someone simply because I knew that someone, somewhere was probably glaring at the whole galaxy, completely missing the point.

"Isn't it beautiful?" I asked.

"The most beautiful thing I've seen in a long while," agreed grandma, putting a hand on my shoulder. I wasn't entirely sure she meant the sky as I smiled at her familiar, wrinkled face.

"Thanks, gran. You were right. I really needed this."

We sat down into the grass and just looked up for a long, peaceful moment. One I knew wasn't going to last forever, judging by the sideways glances Freya was giving me.

"So what was it really like?" asked Freya after waiting what she considered appropriate length of time. "Working for the First Order?"

"What…?" I turned to her, confused.

"You never really told me. Or anyone else for that matter," she shrugged as she sat down next to me, finally giving up her I'm-the-only-adult-here expression. "And right now I think I need to know. I mean... I'd really appreciate any help with understanding what's going on with you..."

"She's right. Outside of assuring us no one tortured or coerced you, you never actually talked about it," confirmed grandma. Leaving _and you need to talk about it, thorny_ wisely unspoken.

I thought about the time I spent on the rebel base and realized they weren't wrong. I was either fixing things or asking people for more things to fix, mainly in attempts to hide myself behind walls of faulty machinery every time any of my relatives tried to lure me into this very conversation. But things changed now. Suddenly I felt I _could_ talk about. True, I could have talked about it at any given time because nothing about those memories was particularly painful… It just didn't feel right somehow. I wasn't in the right frame of mind. I was bound to give them a series of outbursts rather than any kind of real information. Now, though…

"It was like this…"

 ** _… long, long time before…_**

"Don't even think about it, whitey" I said as I saw an ominous shadow slide closer. "I need two more minutes here. _Then_ we can exchange insurance information."

The Stormtrooper – at least I presumed it was a Stormtrooper, because the whole neighborhood seemed to be full of them – responded by just awkwardly standing over me as I turned off my soldering iron and put away the rest of my tools. Perhaps I shocked him by my tone and general lack of interest in his First Order bullshit. It wouldn't be the first time my attitude caused people forget what they were about to say. Still... I kind of impressed myself. These people were supposedly the scariest thing in our corner of the universe.

Oh well – wouldn't be the first time I encountered false advertisement. The first time it had to do with armed invaders, though.

"Right. Now, what can I possibly help you with?" I said, getting up while letting my droid know it was time to scatter by a hand gesture I made behind my back. I didn't dare look to make sure it understood, just fervently hoped it knew to keep itself out of harm's way.

It would make me feel a whole lot better to know at least one of us did.

"You will follow me to our ship," said the Stormtrooper.

"I will follow you to… What is this? A Jedi mind trick? At least point a gun at me when you're going to say stuff like that."

He did.

I sighed, took one last look at my house that managed to catch on fire somehow while I was busy fixing the damage the unhinged guy with the lightsaber inflicted on my favorite beeping household appliance. Of course it did. Because watching my place burn down would be a perfect ending for a perfect day.

"You should take these," said the Stormtrooper pointing at the bag overflowing with tools that was still on the ground at my feet. "You might need them."

"What…?"

 ** _... few minutes later...  
_**

So normally I would comment on whoever was responsible for this minimalist, monochromatic design everything in my line of sight including the people seemed to have. But I was simply… _done_.

So… fucking… done…

I dropped my tools at my feet and sat down among the Stormtroopers, too exhausted to even consider how hilarious this sight must seem to an onlooker, what with me wearing a pair of electric-blue shorts and a shirt with a rude message on it, here, in the midst of all this unnatural whiteness. I hoped there was someone in here to appreciate it, anyway. Usually I'd be the one, but right now I just couldn't find it in myself.

There was this person I turned into in situations like this one, but I didn't seem to be able to locate her. It might have been because there simply was no precedent – nothing that could really be described as _a situation like this one_. Being apprehended by a bunch of warmongering fanatics and given no explanation whatsoever was a new territory for me. If I wasn't so exhausted, so damn numb, I might be actually getting worried. But as it was I simply sat there, for all intents and purposes just another personality-devoid soldier that just happened to forget to put on the uniform.

These shell-shocked thoughts weighed me down like something that might be here to stay. Maybe they were. Maybe I was to be this confused sleepwalker for the few short hours I had left and I didn't even have the energy to ask myself why they didn't shoot me already. That felt like something I should have some emotional response to, but… nope. There just wasn't anything here.

Of course that changed pretty quickly the moment something shiny walked into my field of vision. All my worry and exhaustion was gone and before I knew I was going to do that I covered my eyes against the glare of the reflective surfaces in a ridiculously exaggerated way.

That was one thing I did. The other – the far more important one – was that I remembered. _That's_ how I used to react to situations like this. I turned all thorny…

"Well, that's clearly not your standard armor. Let me guess. You're in charge here?"


	10. Chapter 10

**_... long time ago, in the clutches of the First Order..._**

"Just so you know, there's not much I'll be able to do for you with a dislocated shoulder," I said to the shiny, shiny Stormtrooper as she dragged me deeper into the maze of the ship.

There was no response. That wouldn't do… "Look, you guys are clearly all about efficiency and matching outfits. Why don't you tell me what the hell you think you can use me for…? Because if you think I look like Stormtrooper material I can save you a lot of time. I'm not going to be a good little soldier. I'm going through your brainwashing kicking and screaming and I'll traumatize every psychoanalyst along the way…"

"Nobody wants to turn you into a soldier," came a voice from under that improbably shiny helmet.

"She speaks. _Finally_."

"You're about to be evaluated," added the shiny trooper.

"Why? I mean… Why waste your time? Let me just tell you. I was self-employed and if I could I'd have me fired… I'm not a good fit. In _any_ environment. And this," I said with a gesture that took in all the depressingly uniform corridors around us, "is not your normal work environment. What more is there to evaluate? You're going to find out the first time someone tries to give me an order. Spoiler alert – I'm not going to respond well."

She didn't answer. I wasn't entirely sure she was listening to anything I just said – and here I was being so helpful.

"My default mode is mutinous, lady. _And_ I'm going to be rude. I'm going to be rude to you. I'm going to be rude to them," I waved at the pair of Stormtroopers we just passed by. "And I'm definitely going to be rude to that guy."

The last statement I addressed both to her and the furious looking ginger in a uniform that made me suspect I was dealing with a slightly higher rank here. Though… who knew? I sure didn't know how armies worked. Yet another reason to keep me out of this. Not to mention I'd look ridiculous in black – which seemed to be the only color these uniforms came in from what I've seen during my recent trip through the ship.

"Oh right," said the man, looking at me without bothering to hide the fact that he really didn't have time for any of this, "the civilian consultant."

"Is that what I am?" I said, feeling momentarily confused. I would have remembered if I agreed to take that position – or for that matter if anyone bothered to offer it to me. But what that harmless sounding term probably meant in this particular case was _captive_. Though whatever they imagined they would gain by seizing me was still something of a mystery.

Maybe this high rank could have told me once he was done glaring at… everything. Just everything. I could tell at a glance that this was someone who probably spent hours just looking out at the galaxy in all its beauty and being disgusted by it.

"I don't need an evaluation," I said, turning back to the shiny Stormtrooper that still held me by the arm, because she suddenly seemed the reasonable one, simply by proximity to this guy. "I'm telling you, this is just… a _bad_ idea. Just send me back. We can't be that far and…"

"You have no say in what happens to you."

"Listen up you little…" I said to the ginger… and stopped right there, rethinking that comment since he was a good deal taller than me. Everyone around seemed to have that in common. If I didn't know what a ridiculous idea that was I would suspect that the new pseudo-emperor chose his minions based on their height. "I don't have time for this."

"You _don't have time for this_ …?"

"I am _not_ getting evaluated. Why would you want to do that anyway? And to what purpose? Do you actually expect some poor analyst to spend an hour with me and my issues and be able to function after that? Because, wow… You underestimate my power."

 ** _... not long after..._**

"Right. We're going to keep this short," I said once I found myself face to face to a middle-aged man in a black uniform who clearly drew the short straw here. How else to explain that it was him out of the army of evil minions with the appropriate degree that found himself in the same room with me…?

And he clearly didn't understand the significance yet. Time to fix that.

I mean I was here in this predictably depressing room with a false mirror along one wall being evaluated, whatever that meant. Maybe it was on me though. Somehow I thought I should have known that telling First Order officers _I'm not getting evaluated_ would result in me being thrown into a room with someone who brainwashed people for a living. Oh well… There really was only one course of action they left me then.

"I have suicidal tendencies. Not in any abstract form – I actively try to shorten my stay in this frail mortal shell. I mean I mess with electrical components for a living and you'll never see me taking any precautions. Ever. That's how much I wanted to live when I had full control over my life. Becoming a _civilian consultant_ ," I said with a glare aimed at the mirror opposite me and whoever was on the other side of it, "might just make me take it to a whole new level."

The analyst didn't say anything in reply. Either he was too much of a pro or I surprised the hell out of him by being this forthcoming with the information. Somehow I thought it was the latter…

"Also I'm verbally abusive. A lot. To _everyone_. That's just something you need to learn to deal with. I'm not doing it on purpose most of the time. It's just something that happens. You know that filter people have? When they think something inappropriate but know better than to say it? I don't have that," I continued as the analyst stared at me, probably wondering if I was going to answer every question he didn't get to ask. "And I make no exceptions. None. I am _so lucky_ my grandma is possibly the most awesome lady in the known universe – anyone else would disown me the first time I called her a nerfherder. Anyway. There's that. Also I don't do uniforms. Or discipline. Or mornings. Anyone who tries to wake me before nine better be able to defend themselves."

I sat there in silence for a moment, wondering what else I might add. As I did so I reached into a pocket and seized a piece of candy. "Oh," I said a second later slightly less legibly, what with being busy chewing, "and this place better be well stocked when it comes to sweets. Low on sugar I turn into a real nightmare."

"So you are a mechanic…?" asked the man, finally remembering he had a job to do here.

"Engineer, technically. Pretty narrow field of specialization, too. But yeah, I can fix stuff. I mean I'll try my hand at anything that's sparkling dangerously or emitting smoke – as I said, suicidal – but I only really know what I'm doing when dealing with big machines. You know… your wardrobe-sized supercomputers… I won't bore you with proper terminology, since I never bothered to remember half of it. You don't actually need that to be able to keep them running. So yeah. That's my thing. Please don't tell me that's exactly what you've been looking for."

He didn't say that. For a long moment he just sat there not saying anything. I'd think it was a psychological trick of some description if only I couldn't tell by his slightly shaken expression that he really didn't expect me to be _that_ kind of expert. After all, they so rarely came in this shape and size – not to mention in shorts this short.

I proceeded to eat another candy as I waited for him to get his act together. I was under the impression he was supposed to be a professional. Not that I've been doing such a good job of being a terrified captive pleading for my life, but in my defense I've never been a captive before while this guy was presumably on that side of the table a thousand times in the past.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I'll want to be reimbursed for the damage inflicted on my droid. I know you think you can do whatever you want, but come on – that guy in a mask was really crossing the line. I mean, whatever, let him have his emotional moments. Not my problem. But if he thinks he can damage my property and just walk away he has another thing coming."

"Guy in a mask…?"

"You know. The Jedi… I mean, probably not a Jedi, working for this outfit. The other variety then. Sith."

"How could you tell he was a Sith?" asked the analyst, sounding intrigued all of a sudden.

"Well that needlessly showy weapon was a dead giveaway. And I felt him digging through my head, which, again, something I'd like to be reimbursed for. Also I heard him mention a Skywalker. Loudly. I mean, really – I know Jedi are famous for disappearing into exile on the worst backwaters, but come on… It's not such a bad neighborhood. Not bad enough for a Skywalker to decide to slum it there for sure. Want a piece…?" I said, offering him a candy as he sat there studying my disinterested expression.

To my surprise he took it. I couldn't help smiling, since I could see all the calculation behind the act. He probably thought he was establishing trust by letting me know he would eat it without suspecting I was trying to poison him. And here I sat thinking _I would if I could_ …

"So this is a military operation, right? Rhetorical question. Just wondering who's in charge here. You know – who not to piss off if I don't want to be taking a trip out of the airlock. And please don't tell me it's the Dark Knight."

"Who…?" he asked, thoroughly confused now.

"The Sith. Try to keep up. I mean where does that guy fit in? This seems to be modeled pretty closely on the old Empire – and not in a subtle way either. You didn't even bother to design new armor, just went with all the Stormtrooper suits from army surplus…"

"Your point…?"

"Is this new guy like… Darth Vader replacement? Oh what am I saying? Of course that's it," I said, laughing softly to myself. "I guess that explains the helmet. So… He's not in charge. Who is then? Who do I have to convince I'm the person he needs to be sending home before I start interfering with smooth working of this operation?"

"That would be general Hux."

"General. Is that as high as you can go in military? Oh what?" I said in reply to his amazed expression. "I'm a life-long civilian. Where was I supposed to pick up this stuff? Anyway. Hux. Try not to piss him off, whoever he is," I said to myself in that need-to-remember-this tone I used when taking mental notes as I did repair jobs.

"Can I have another?" asked the analyst, momentarily confusing me. It took me a second to figure out what he meant. I handed him another candy, trying not to smile too hard at what for some reason felt like a minor victory.

"Speaking of military personnel – who was that guy outside? Oh you know – tall, elevated evil glares into an art form… please don't make me use the g-word…" I said, but the analyst just stared at me in incomprehension. "The ginger. And please don't tell me you don't know who I mean, that guy's impossible to miss. I mean talk about intense… What? What did I say? I didn't even get to the no-soul joke yet…"

"What?" he said as he tried – and failed – to suppress laughter.

"Don't tell me you never heard about that. What system are you from anyway? I thought everyone knew gingers don't have souls. You know an hour ago I'd call that malicious rumor, but I think I'm sold now. What?" I said, confused. His laughter got even more out of control as I sat there and watched him in disbelief. And here I thought the First Order was made of stone cold professionals.

"A little help here?" I said, addressing the mirror I strongly suspected of hiding some high ranking officer behind it. The analyst had literal tears of laughter in his eyes.

Predictably there was no response. I sighed, ate my last piece of candy and sat there as the guy went "No… soul…" to himself, choking on laughter.

"Glad someone's having fun," I sighed.


	11. Chapter 11

**_... long time ago, in the clutches of the First Order..._**

"I mean I'm not claiming to be a specialist, but come on – even I could tell that did not go as planned. I clearly broke your guy. So what's next? Are you sending me home yet or are we going to go on with this charade and get me measured for a uniform next…?"

The shiny Stormtrooper didn't reply. I glared at her, trying to guess what expression she hid under that distinctive helmet. "Do you have a name or do I just call you _shiny_. Because I think we both know which one I'd prefer."

"It's captain Phasma. Now shut up."

"Aye aye, captain," I grinned. So much for my suicidal tendencies taking the backseat in this thoroughly weird situation. It might have taken me a while but now I was clearly back to my usual someone-put-me-out-of-my-misery self.

Yeah, I didn't see the First Order tolerating it for very long. I probably had only hours to live.

"Do you smell that?" I said, sniffing the air. I could have sworn I smelled melted plastic. That couldn't be good. "Where is that coming from…?"

"What are you talking about?" said the captain in a tone that was perilously close to turning angry. Something was telling me I wouldn't like her when she was angry. Still, life-long instinct to run towards what clearly smelled of a mechanical meltdown waiting to happen couldn't be suppressed…

I was out of my chair and slipping by her before she could react. Advantage of being a normal sized person – I found it ridiculously easy to slip under her arm and escape into the corridor where I proceeded to follow my nose. There was something melting somewhere and though I felt quite relaxed at the thought of my premature death I simply refused to die because these people were too busy playing soldiers to make sure their machinery wasn't turning into lava.

"Right. _Who_ did this…?" I said, frowning at the mess I found in a room just at the end of the corridor. "Was it the discount Vader…?"

Phasma, catching up with me just as I stopped in the doorway made a sound that was reminiscent of drawing of a breath in surprise. If she didn't give off the nothing-can-surprise-me vibe I would have thought she never heard anyone using that kind of terminology when speaking of the Sith. "Are you going to shoot me? Because you can still do that when I'm done dealing with this mess," I said glancing at her half-raised weapon. One she clearly meant to aim at me before I made that tactless remark about the First Order's pet space wizard.

"So what do we have here?" I asked one of the service droids, deciding it was safe to ignore her for now.

The droid replied in a series of decidedly panicky beeps. I sighed and bent down to examine the computer terminal that was basically melting before my eyes. "Did you cut it off? Alright, alright – I had to ask. Now here's what I need you to get me…"

 ** _... some time later..._**

I looked over my shoulder fighting the desire to yell out some instructions about how badly whoever was making all that noise needed to shut up. I had bad enough time focusing at the work at hand with the incredible heat emanating from the melting parts of the dying machine. Because this thing was clearly finished. There was no point even contemplating fixing it – I was barely able to contain the damage.

I spent over fifteen minutes now just trying to prevent this thing from melting its way through the floor and dropping onto the floor below us. That's how bad this was. I was officially ready to stop dismissing lightsabers as silly relics of hopefully soon to be extinct sect – those things were _dangerous_. I mean they could do this to solid metal and hardened plastic. I didn't want to imagine what they did to things that were of the soft and squishy variety. Though… they probably cauterized the wounds…

"Is it really?" I asked the droid as he beeped at me something about the temperature finally going down.

I took a moment to look over my shoulder again. Whoever was discussing the chain of command outside this room seemed to be finally shutting up. Not before one last furious "She's _trouble_ ," which made me pretty sure who the subject of the conversation was.

"Yeah right. You have a guy who can do this because he's having a bad day running around twenty-four-seven and _I'm_ trouble," I mumbled to myself, brushing a forearm against my damp forehead. "I mean Darth Something must be a safety violation incarnated."

The droid gave a soft beep in agreement and I chuckled to myself.

 ** _... later..._**

So I was working for the First Order now, apparently.

No one actually bothered to say so in so many words, but the uniform I was given was a pretty clear indication I was in this with them whether I liked it or not. Other than that though, everyone seemed to be polite, even quietly apologetic about the whole thing. Also confused. Really, really confused. That made me pretty sure this was _not_ how the hiring process normally went.

I mean of course there was a historical precedent or two of an Evil Empire setting its heart on a specific scientist and making him cooperative through threats to his family members. Now I might have impressed them with the way I simply went about my work, even as the very act threaten to melt my face off if I wasn't careful – but I still wasn't _that_ kind of an asset.

Truth was I was just an engineer. Nothing special. The only thing that set me apart from every other person of the same skill set they already had brainwashed and working for them was that when I worked I didn't give a damn. I didn't even have to think twice about rolling up my sleeves and tackling a problem others would have refused for some silly reason such as self-preservation. As far as I knew I was the only properly suicidal, I-don't-give-a-damn-it's-melting-my-face-I'm-fixing-this engineer aboard. The kind of person you don't know you need until something threatens to blow up. And so they were keeping me, my attitude and all.

I had no more say in it than I had access to sweets. Well, at least they didn't try to feed me any propaganda. _Yet_. But that was just me trying to see the bright side – which really wasn't something I was any good at.

I looked myself over in a reflective surface on the wall of the interrogation room I was to stay in until they could come up with somewhere more permanent to place me.

Even in my uniform I looked like a rebel doing a terrible job of impersonating a First Order officer. It was the hair mostly – the mess of curls that refused to behave even on the best of days, and now was even more tangled than usually. I ran my hands through it, not to smooth it but to make it even messier. I liked the clearly-against-the-regulations look it produced, especially as I unbuttoned the top of my jacket. By necessity, really, since it didn't exactly accommodate my actual proportions, making me wonder just how flat-chested was the ideal First Order officer supposed to be.

"Oh, this place is gonna be fun," I said to my so-not-amused looking reflection. I've spent a total of ten minutes in solitary confinement and here I was, already talking to myself.

I tapped the glass softly, wondering if there was someone on the other side. I was really tempted to whisper _I have a bad feeling about this_ or something in that vein just to freak them out.

But that wouldn't do much for me in a way of distraction. The truth was what I really needed was something to fix – and soon. The sooner the not-exactly-emotionally-stable Sith got some bad news the sooner I'd get to do the thing that could at least momentarily make me forget my circumstances – this utterly unforeseen twist in the story that was my life.

A First Order lackey. My family would be so damn proud of me.

Actually… since they didn't disown me even as I inflicted my personality on them pretty much since I learned to talk this might not be a deal breaker either. Anyway – they were the last thing I needed to be thinking of right now. Things were bleak enough as it was, without that particular problem for me to depress over. Especially since I felt pretty damn certain they'll take one look at the burnt down ruin my house must have turned into by now and come to the logical conclusion that I've been held captive, being coerced and needed saving.

They were probably looking for Resistance forces to signed up with even as I sat here feeling sorry for myself. "Oh at least when you screw up, you screw up big," I told my suddenly crestfallen reflection. "You should have _family disappointment_ under occupation. I mean… No one's ever going to trump this."

I stopped, chuckling to myself. If there really was a person on the other side of the mirror I might have just succeeded in seriously freaking him out.

I wondered if he maybe had the same kind of complicated family situation I did… But then that was pretty much the case with everyone in this galaxy. Beginning with the troublemakers that were the Skywalkers, all the way down to the mere extras like myself.


	12. Chapter 12

**_... long time ago, in the clutches of the First Order..._**

"We're arriving _where_?" I asked the Stormtrooper who poked his head in to inform me I might be getting that private room I've been promised within an hour. " _Star Killer_? Seriously? I don't even know where to begin…"

"You begin with putting your shoes on," said a frosty voice from the corridor. Should have known they won't just send the regular variety of a Stormtrooper to go fetch me. Of course he had a shiny backup too.

There was a snarky remark I probably could make if I tried, but I was far too intrigued to be further establishing my position as troublemaker right this moment. So I reached under the table for my First Order approved black boots, perfect for stumping on people's civil liberties and put them on in silence. The Starkiller Base sounded like a place I really didn't want to wander through barefoot anyway.

"Just out of curiosity – who came up with the improbably awesome name…?" as we left the room.

Neither the regular-sized Stormtroopers on either side of me, not the captain walking in the lead bothered to answer.

Somehow I suspected that while I paced my mirror-walled prison they must have had an emergency meeting of some sort during which it was decided that I'm to be ignored whenever I manifested any sign of personality. They would most likely just lock me up in a windowless room and only remember me when they saw some piece of delicate machinery emitting smoke.

Almost made me wonder what was the point of forcing me to wear this evil cosplay of a uniform. But just as I was going to ask the bay door opened and I was led out into an enormous hangar and left momentarily speechless – a very rare occurrence indeed.

"This place is… wow…" I said, looking around. Only after it was out of my mouth I realized that I just complimented an evil empire on how impressively big their base was. Their _evil_ base full of brainwashed soldiers that were snatched as children, if the gossip that got to me back in my civilian days could be trusted. "I mean how does this even work? Did you hollow out a planet or something…?"

"Yes," said the Stormtrooper to my left. I felt my jaw drop further.

"Don't engage with the consultant," said Phasma walking in front of us. I rolled my eyes.

"What did you just call me?" I said in my best I'm-gonna-start-a-fight-over-this tone. "First of all I am _not_ a consultant. The word you're looking for is a _captive_. You know – as in _kept here against my will_. And second of all…"

But I stopped right there, because something I saw in the corner of my eye got my attention. A large, menacing figure in a black cape.

I stopped moving and just looked at him across the hangar, head inclined to one side, trying to figure out what's the worst that could happen if I went over there and told him there's been a big misunderstanding. Also that he owed me quite a sum for almost destroying my droid. But of course before I could get to executing that suicidal idea there was something shiny in my field of vision, obviously glaring at me under her helmet.

I actually found myself being glad for the distraction, because for a second there I had a very unpleasant feeling. Almost like someone digging through my memory... _again_. Siths and their damn mindtricks.

"I was just… looking," I said to Phasma. "What? Don't I get to look at the person clearly responsible for my current predicament? I mean, even you have to admit… one hell of a predicament…"

She didn't reply and I got moving before she could grip my arm and physically drag me wherever she needed me to go.

"It's just that I have _so many questions_. I never worked for an oppressive regime before, you know…?" I said as I walked on. "I mean first of all, the uniforms…"

 ** _... later..._**

So Starkiller Base was _big_. As in impossible for me to navigate. I didn't get a Stormtrooper assigned to me because I might attempt to leave, but because I was unable to tell where I was at any given moment.

Not really my fault, obviously. This was _a planet_. Apparently an artificial moon simply wasn't good enough for this new and scarier Empire 2.0…

And I once again had _so many_ questions about that. Questions my faceless captors never took the time to properly answer as they led me from one faulty machine to another, with some lightsaber inflicted damage thrown in it for the sake of variety every now and then. Though I could swear one of them flinched as I brought up the native species this planet absolutely must have had before it was turned into a doomsday weapon.

"So this happens a lot, huh?" I said as I was once again faced with a room that was redesigned using a very specific weapon – an elegant weapon for more civilized age as one would say.

The Stormtrooper in charge of me didn't reply. "Rude," I said, though it wasn't exactly surprising.

I chose to speak to the droid instead, since I preferred people with more personality to complain to anyway. I mean it dragged all my tools all the way here – the least I owed it was some smalltalk. "So do you think it's just anger management problem or are there other underlining issues…?" I asked, getting a distracted beep in reply. "Oh, I'll get to that in a moment. It's just I can't help wondering _why_ is this happening. Especially since it's happening to me. He gets to have his little tantrum and walk away… I'll be here for two hours, minimum," I said, gesturing to the console that was literally cut in half.

The droid beeped again. "Alright, alright. Let's get to work," I rolled my eyes.

"What are you doing?" said he Stormtrooper, sounding like I just managed to shock some humanity back into him as I began unbuttoning the jacket of my uniform.

"Am _I_ telling you how to do your job? No. So shut up and go guard the door, that's a good boy. I mean why did they even give me something that has sleeves anyway?" I said to myself as I dropped the jacket on the floor. "Won't be needing that…"

 ** _... an hour later..._**

"Yeah. _Severe_. And if I was wearing my uniform you'd be removing fabric that melded with my skin for the next half an hour…" I said, more to Phasma who still had some problem with me wearing only a shirt as I worked than the medic studying the electric burns running up to my elbow.

I wanted to point out this was _not_ my first severe electric burn and that I could take care of it a great deal faster than the astonished medic if they just relaxed the rules for a second and granted me access to their supplies. I would be already out of here and back to work… But no, the First Order had to follow their regulations.

"I'm sorry, is anyone going to deal with this…?" I said a minute later, since I still sat there _not_ getting treated.

That finally made the medic snap into action. At last.

I wondered if I could convince her to give me something for the pain – because just because this was a pretty common occurrence in my life didn't mean it didn't hurt. It definitely did. If I wasn't technically an employee of an organization so evil they might actually shoot me for showing weakness I would have said something by now. But all things considered I didn't quite dare risk it. So for the next five minutes I just sat there, smiling serenely as the medic took care of my slightly melted skin, doing my best impression of someone who had no pain receptors.

"Could you hurry up? I still have a lot of sorting to do. Some of those components are definitely reusable. I thought I'll save them for later today – you know, when this _exact same thing_ happens. I mean we _are_ on a budget. There are only so many control panels we can sacrifice, right?"

Phasma, picking up on the fact I was clearly speaking to her, surprised me by actually reacting. "I'll assign someone to take you back when you're finished here."

I smiled at that. Of course she'll assign someone to me – the alternative being just letting me wander around freely and knowing me for all of three days, she already picked up on what a terrible idea that would have been. Who knew who I'd run into and offend, probably with the very first thing out of my mouth.

"You should probably take something for the pain," said the medic.

"Probably," I said with my best you-don't-say tone.

It was the appropriate level of meanness for this situation. I mean, yeah, I showed no outward signs of being in pain, but still she should have make a connection between how fried my skin was and how painful this was for me. After all, this was her job. I wasn't even on board with all this military dictatorship stuff and still I took my so-called job more seriously than that.

"Nothing too strong, though. I'll definitely be handling heavy machinery you know," I told the medic as Phasma left the room. "I'd hate to drop any of it on myself."


	13. Chapter 13

**_... long time ago, in the clutches of the First Order..._**

"Anything I can help you with…?"

"I'm here to fix that," I said pointing at the smouldering wall behind him, "so maybe save the attitude."

Pointedly ignoring the man I looked around searching for any machine that needed my immediate attention, but there just didn't seemed to be anything. Great. So it was the other kind of a problem and I was going to spend some pretty claustrophobic moments stuck between the wall panels replacing slashed cables.

"Haven't we met before…?" I asked him, since he didn't look like he was planning to leave. "A few days back…? When I still believed I was going to be a civilian, like my father before me. I was so young and naive then," I added smiling to myself as I gestured to the droids, showing them which panels I needed removed.

"That was last week."

"Exactly," I replied with the appropriate level of bitterness. Level which could only be described as _off the charts_. "I mean just look at this. Can't whoever is supposed to be running this operation just confiscate his damn toy…?"

"That would be me," he said.

I blinked in confusion and momentarily lost my interest in the damaged wall.

"Yeah, right," I grinned, giving him a long, considering look. "You know, it would be really impressive if that were true. But even with my limited knowledge of how evil armies work I can tell you're too young to be holding that kind of job. Unless there's an evil Battle School I don't know about…"

"Battle School…?" he frowned.

"You know… A place where they take your regular model kids and turn them into brilliant military strategists. Because that's what evil governments do. Probably just for the sake of being evil, too. I mean who needs a childhood? Come to think of it, the Jedi were running a very similar operation. Oh wow… dark…" I said, mentally cringing at the connection I just made. "Let's pretend I didn't go there."

"Let's pretend you have a job to do," he said pointedly.

I rolled my eyes. "Right. And I'm willing to do it. _It_ meaning being stuck in a very narrow space for hours and right at the edge of a panic attack the whole time. Doing all that while there's melted metal dripping all around me is where I draw the line. Besides – I already reached my quota of life-threatening injuries for this week. That one too," I added speaking to the droid that was getting rid of the wall insulation.

Seeing they were just about done with that I stripped off my jacket, tied my hair back with a strip of fabric that used to be a part of the original uniform they gave me – one that turned out to be more flammable than was good for it – and proceeded to crawl into the tangle of cables no longer hidden by the wall panels.

"So let's pretend I believe you're in charge here," I said after I took a quick look and got out to find him still in the room and glaring into the middle distance. "That would make you the person to talk to about getting discharged, right? Dishonorably discharged… for really bad attitude…?" I added hopefully.

"No."

"No, you're not the person to talk to or no, that's not happening? Oh," I said, seeing the answer in his expression that did not change the slightest bit. "So I guess I'm here for life."

"For as long as you're useful. You stop being useful fixing things, the only other use the First Order has for you is as a live target."

"Yeah, you definitely went to an evil Battle School," I said, unable to help myself. Luckily the droids began beeping at me before I could add anything more. "Oh _come on_ ," I said in reply to their rising panic and quickly walked closer to the partially-dismantled wall to double-check.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, you know. Bad news. _Bad_ news," I added for emphasis, since he didn't seem to be quite getting the seriousness of the situation. "We need to get this under control before the life support system starts acting up. Who has the blueprints? Oh… _oh_ _no_ … How are we still alive?" I said scrambling for the wall. I spent a tense few seconds looking for a very important off-switch that definitely shouldn't have been hidden behind all this crap. And as usually when I found myself in a situation like this – one in which I wasn't entirely sure how was I not seeing my life flash before my eyes yet – I decided to keep talking as though I had nothing better to do.

Granted, it was one insane coping mechanism, but I was yet to find anything better. "So…" I said, fishing in my memory for a second, "Hux? I was being serious, you know. Someone better confiscates that lightsaber. I mean that thing does _serious_ damage. It definitely shouldn't be handled by someone this… irresponsible… _Dammit_ …!"

"What happened?"

"I broke a nail," I replied. "You know, you are _so lucky_ I'm a captive. If I wasn't I'd be demanding a raise right about now…"

I would add more but things took a turn for critical over here. I took me a second before I found myself complaining about life, the universe and everything again. Which was exactly when he decided to freak me out by actually putting some effort into upholding his side of the conversation. "That's about enough of that," he said in a tone that made me certain he was talking about my attitude.

"Are you seriously trying to give me the _I have the authority to end you if you don't behave_ speech? Because if you are I have to say I love your timing. Also I just made sure you'll still have air to breathe five minutes from now," I said as I emerged, looking a mess between my scraped knuckles and my slightly burnt hair, not to mention the nail that turned out to be a lot worse than I first realized. "Oh this is just perfect."

"You are…" he started, his glare intensifying.

"Oh let me guess – all the things _I told you I was_ …? You know, back when you still could send me back? Well, what do you expect me to do? Apologize? Promise I'll wear my uniform like I'm supposed to and don't talk back when Phasma's clearly making faces at me underneath that dumb helmet? Do I look I have time for any of that with stuff breaking _all of the time_?" I said in a rush. "Because I'm not going to do any of that. I'm already putting in some serious hours _fixing_ all your broken equipment, not to mention cleaning up after that menace of a Sith. I'd think that was plenty."

Part of me knew this was my suicidal tendencies talking even as I was saying all this. But I simply couldn't make myself shut up. Not even after his expression assured me the next words out of his mouth would be orders to assemble a shooting squad for my execution. "Oh what…?" I said angrily to the droid that picked that exact moment to start beeping.

The news it give me were _not_ good. I forgot I was in the middle of an argument and followed it to the faulty connection it seemed so damn worried about.

"I'm going to need a full report on this," said Hux about a minute later, startling me. I was already so caught up in glaring at the uncooperative machinery I completely forgot he was in the room.

"And I'm going to need sweets. I can't work under these conditions…" I said before I remembered this was no time to be manifesting my personality. "I mean – _yes, sir_."

He glared. No change there, then. "Did you actually restore the life support system?"

"Of course I did. Do you think I would do this on purpose?" I said, showing him the damn near torn off nail I earned just a minute ago.

He didn't. Or if he did, he didn't call me on it. He also finally left, which made doing my job a whole lot easier.

A minute later I managed to forget all about him and what probably was a _very_ dangerous situation I just barely escaped with my life. It was damn near impossible to think of things like that with all these droids beeping bad news at me left and right.

 ** _…_ _meanwhile in the Ileenium system…_**

"Oh… I actually completely forgot that happened," I said, smiling to myself. "It was so long ago."

" _How the hell did you survive_?" said Freya, speaking very slowly, carefully pronouncing every word. I wished I could give her an answer, because she sounded like she really needed one – like the universe wouldn't make sense to her until she had _some_ explanation. But the truth was I had nothing.

"Did you just shrug?" she said, sounding both angry and slightly dazed. "Don't do that. That's not an appropriate reaction. I mean… _how_? How am I talking to you right now? You should be dead."

"I know, right?" I said, doing my best not to follow that with a laugh, since I could tell she found all this really troubling.

"I might have a theory or two," begun grandma.

"No," I said simply. I might have been in a spectacular mood sitting here bathed in the starlight, but that didn't mean I was going to tolerate any _force_ talk. Which was clearly where this was headed.

"But you _don't_ talk like that to people who have the power to have you killed. I mean, of course _you_ do," corrected Freya, rolling her eyes. "But…"

"Look, I've been told Kylo Ren put in a good word for me. Which is… strange. And has nothing to do with the force," I added, before grandma jumped on that remark. "Maybe he just felt bad about all that property damage."

"Yeah. Siths are notorious for that kind of thing," said Freya, sounding eerily like I would if I was my usual thorny self.

"Well, that's the best explanation I was able to come up with," I shrugged. "I mean… whatever he saw in my head must have told him I'll be more useful alive."

" _What_?" said Freya. She looked like she was ready to grab me and shake me until I took this seriously. "What do you mean _whatever he saw in my head_ …?"

"Oh, come on. That is definitely something Siths are notorious for so don't look at me like it's the most shocking thing you heard all day. _Of course_ he dug through my head. Wouldn't you?"

"You could tell you had a Sith digging through your head?"

"Well... I could tell something strange was going on, yeah."

"And you're just mentioning it _now_?" said Freya, her tone of angry disbelief making me grin. "Like it's no big deal."

"Because it isn't. Siths read your mind. It's part of their whole thing," I shrugged again. She glared. Apparently doing that was still not in sink with the tone of this conversation.

"Will you _stop_ shrugging. This is serious…"

"No it isn't. This is… over," I said, still amused at her I-can't-believe-this-expression. "Nothing we can really do about it. Other than yell, that is. But since you're taking care of that I'll just…"

"Oh _don't_. Don't just look up at the stars like this conversation is over. It most definitely isn't. And don't even _think_ about trying to sell me this whole attitude. You should be worried. You should be wondering about all the things I'm wondering about. Grandma," added Freya, turning to her once she caught up with how easy I found it to ignore her little speech, " _tell her_. She can't just sit here and pretend everything's alright."

"I don't think that's what she's doing, dear," said grandma calmly. "I suspect she's too busy enjoying the show."

I smiled to myself, but forced myself not to look at Freya. Gran wasn't entirely wrong about that – I did have a great time witnessing this. It almost felt like seeing myself during one of my I'm-just-going-to-yell-at-this-until-it-goes-away moments.

"How can you be this calm?" said Freya accusingly once she was done glaring at grandma.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Maybe because I'm safe and my life has a purpose and the stars are so beautiful tonight. And it doesn't matter _how_ is any of this possible – it really doesn't. Yes, I shouldn't have been able to annoy the hell out of a guy who casually destroys whole systems and live to tell the tale. But I did. I'm still doing it even now as I sit here. He's somewhere out there furious about the fact that he simply doesn't know which planet to blow up to rid the universe of me. Feeling calm about it _is_ the appropriate reaction."

"Do you even know what _appropriate_ means?" said Freya, exasperated.


	14. Chapter 14

**_…_ _later that night…_**

"So grandma," I said in a very loud whisper. "Maybe _do_ talk about the force. I think Freya really needs an explanation, however weird it is…"

"Nope," said Freya, pointedly looking up at the starlit sky instead of the two of us. "I'm fine. I don't need the universe to make sense."

"Oh. Alright then…"

" _Obviously_ that was sarcasm," said Freya, punching me on the shoulder without ever glancing in my direction.

"So do tell – how is the force responsible for me surviving my ordeal in one piece and almost no traumatic memories or lingering side-effects…?" I said to grandma, ignoring Freya's sudden laughter.

"I'm just going to go ahead and assume you know how the force works," begun grandma.

"I think that's exactly the wrong approach. You know we _don't_. You probably don't understand it either. Who knows if Luke didn't leave because he suddenly realized it makes absolutely no sense and he wasted his life…" said Freya and I found myself nodding in agreement.

"The force flows through us all," continued grandma.

"Yes. Us and trees and rocks and creepy swamp caves," muttered Freya. It was my turn to hit her for ruining the mood. "You know that means force sensitive people get really terrible deal, right?" she added thoughtfully.

"As I've been telling you…" I said, because I _was_ saying that just the other day. And had to stop due to Freya's death glare.

"Oh no," she said, turning to me with the exact same expression again, "you don't get to have a say. You disqualified yourself with your sympathy-for-the-devil thing over Kylo Ren. And don't tell me how terrible he looked after a teenage girl kicked his ass, that's not going to endear him to me."

"I don't think it was all down to how badly he lost to a total start-up," I said, sounding defensive even to myself. "I think it had more to do with the fact that his father just died. And _don't_ … Don't say it. I _know_. I also know it wasn't that simple. He didn't just move on to the next evil thing on his to do list. It's something that's still with him. It always will be."

"He told you that, did he?" said Freya sharply. But she immediately turned slightly ashamed, hearing herself.

"You know he didn't. I never spoke to him. Which is really strange, now that I think of it. I mean… considering what a big role he played in my life over the last three months. Oh, go ahead, blame it on the force," I said, turning to grandma. "You know you want to…"

"I think you underestimate the force, thorny," said grandma, smiling at me. "It can't be you underestimating your own importance. I find that simply inconceivable."

"Oh I know I might not be the bringing-balance-to-the-force important, but I'm still pretty damn important," I replied with a grin. "Someone, somewhere out there is still putting out a fire I set. Remotely. From the other side of the galaxy. Just to screw with Hux," I said, pausing dramatically after adding each new piece of information to give them time to fully appreciate how awesome it was.

"Well, that would be one way to explain why Kylo Ren cared whether you live or die. Just to screw with Hux," added Freya after catching my confused expression.

"Oh please… How would he know…?"

I stopped right there before giving Freya excuse to raise her voice in exasperation again. Because after taking a peak into my brain it must have been pretty clear to him how likely it was for me to be a well-behaved First Order drone. And what little damn I would give even as I was speaking to a superior officer… "I think you might be right," I said to Freya. "And so are you…" I added as grandma begun to laugh.

"That definitely counts as abuse of force powers, though," said Freya. "But hey, that _is_ a Sith thing to do. So… wait? Did we actually solve this?"

"I say we did," replied grandma, sounding more than a little amused. Which had a lot to do with whatever expression I was currently wearing, because she didn't seem to be able to take her eyes from it. "Unless you have something better, thorny?"

"Nope," I replied grudgingly. "This should really piss me off, you know? Last time I found someone tried to use me for psychological warfare I was ready to start punching walls. Why am I so okay with this…?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"What?" I said, looking at Freya, who sure sounded like she had an explanation.

"It's because you refuse to get angry at Darth Fanboy…"

"Don't call him that," I said – and immediately realized I fell into her trap.

" _You_ used to call him that, remember? Right. Since we're reminiscing, why don't you at least try to explain to me what's the deal with you always jumping to his defense these days?"

 _ **… long time ago aboard Finalizer…** _

"Oh wow… that's one impressive scar."

I've been in that situation a thousand times before. Saying something and realizing even as I was saying it that I just gave someone pretty solid case for murdering me on the spot. I've been doing that for as long as I could remember. Of course never before to someone with actual force powers.

Powers he currently wasn't using to strangle me from the other side of the room, which was quite a surprise. Not a big one, though, not when I took in his current look, mainly consisting of bandages and emotional turmoil so intense that it immediately made me forget I was not quite done being furious at everyone who ever wore First Order uniform.

With the anger gone I did yet another thing I didn't quite see coming until I heard myself saying it. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to wake you. Look, let me help…"

Very bad idea – not because of the force powers he looked too confused to remember he had, but because if he couldn't walk of his own volition there was very little hope I would be of any help. I surrounded myself with droids so I never had to do any of the heavy lifting that came with the job, which left me uniquely unprepared to help someone twice my size to walk to the nearest flat surface he could collapse on and perhaps go unconscious again. He looked like he was at the point where that would seem his best course of action.

"What the hell happened to him?" I asked Hux who took one look at what I was trying to do, put on his best I-hate-this-job expression, and took over. "I mean… those are lightsaber wounds and they can't possibly be self-inflicted."

I stopped talking. I had to take a moment to think about why the hell did I sound so concerned. I should be happy about this. This was one of the bad guys. I should be delighted to see him like this. So why the hell was I looking around for med droids…?

"Could you get away from him? You look like you're contemplating pressing a pillow over his face. I know that's just your default expression, but it's making me really uncomfortable," I said a minute later, looking up from the screen full of readouts that told me absolutely nothing. Hux answered with a glare that promised murder, but that was kind of an improvement, really. He looked at me like that since day one, yet here I was all the same.

"What you think you're doing…?" he asked as I turned my attention back to the screens.

"Looking for some way I can help. Oh what? Do I have to explain people to you? _Again_? Alright," I shrugged. "Human beings – those capable of empathy – take one look at _that_ and want to help. _Need_ to help. Because seeing someone reduced to bloody mess…"

"And how exactly do you think you can help?" he interrupted. "You're just a fixer…"

"Well first of all I'm an engineer. Not my fault I was underutilized, because the First Order refused to acknowledge what an awesome skillset I have. And of course I can help. He's more machine than a man… Oh wait, that was the other one, wasn't it…?" I said forcing a smile, because with the near-unconscious Sith in my field of vision I had some trouble accessing my sense of humor.

"Get out," ordered Hux.

"And leave you here without any witnesses? Hell no. I know all about that juvenile sibling rivalry you two have. I'm not leaving you here alone. If anything happens to him…"

"What? You'll take it personally? Of course you will. After all this is someone you've never spoken to…"

"For a second there you almost sounded like me, general," I said with a grin that might have been a little on the evil side. It did its job though. He walked over to me, grabbed me by the arm and proceeded to drag me out of the room. "Well that was mature," I muttered.

"You're staying out of the med bay."

"Is that an order?"

Judging by the glare it definitely was. I shrugged. I wasn't entirely sure I _wanted_ to stay in that room anyway, with its antiseptic smell and its bloodied occupant. I wanted Hux out of it though. He was the last person in the galaxy anyone should have looming over them while passed out – with the possible exception of His Supreme Evilness…

I looked down at my hands that were shaking for some inexplicable reason. There was blood on my palm I didn't want to think too hard about. "Is he going to be alright?" I said in a voice so small and shaky I barely recognized it as my own. "I mean, he is, isn't he? You'd be looking a lot happier if he wasn't…"

"He'll live," replied Hux disinterestedly. That wasn't what I asked, but I managed to stop myself from pointing it out.

"You're not… you know… taking him along as a distraction. So Snoke forgets that you just lost a whole planet. Because I don't think that will work. I mean sure, he lost a fight pretty badly… but…"

"I'm taking him along because those were my orders."

"Seriously? And here I thought I had a terrible boss," I smiled shakily. "Did he actually go _I know you're under attack and everything, but before you evacuate go get Kylo Ren, wherever he is_ …?"

Hux didn't answer, but that was an answer in itself. I just shook my head. No way this evil empire was going to last if this was how it was run… "Oh what? I'm staying out of the med bay," I said, feeling his hand on my shoulder.

"Go find something to fix," he said.

I gave him a look that must have conveyed what was the only broken thing in my vicinity and what I thought about my chances of ever fixing it. Though… I'd love to have a go all the same. With a blowtorch, preferably.

"If you were anyone else I would have you shot just for that," he said.

But I wasn't anyone else and we both knew it.

"Felt good, didn't it? Getting that out in the open…" I smiled. "I mean, sure, it made you sound emotionally compromised, but who cares, right? At least now we know where we stand. You hate the fact that I'm still drawing breath – and I'll do _anything_ to keep you alive. Oh don't look so shocked. What… is revenge on the list of things you're not human enough to understand?"

He didn't reply. Apparently it was. "You're going to live to see the end of this war. A war you're going to lose, by the way. You're going to live to regret it all – everything you ever traded to become _this_. You're going to live to realize these are the years you'll never be getting back and what future you have left will not be…"

"You're going to stop talking," he said in a dangerous tone that pretty much implied I'll be taking a trip out of the airlock if I didn't.

I just shrugged and turned my attention back to the med bay and the Sith. It felt a safe thing to do, what with him being the only person around here that didn't make me go all _dark side_ just by existing. I didn't actually go inside again, not wishing to give Hux an excuse to have me quietly executed for insubordination, but that didn't stop me from watching him. And worrying. And just generally doing a great job of forgetting he was one of the bad guys.


	15. Chapter 15

**_… meanwhile in the Ileenium system…_**

"That's not an explanation," said Freya in that soft, level voice that made it clear she'd rather be yelling it.

"Well, I can't explain it better. Something just changed. Seeing him like that changed it. It's pretty hard to come to terms with the idea that people that have force powers have bad days too…" I said, forcing myself not to shrug. Something told me Freya would not like that.

"Also forget Kylo Ren for the moment. What the hell do you mean you'll do anything to keep Hux alive? _Hux_? The guy that makes you end calls with _I hate you_ …?" said Freya sounding somehow even more upset than before.

"Oh come on, that makes perfect sense…" I said, getting exasperated myself. Grandma begun openly laughing.

"You have no clue how to treat the bad guys, do you?" said Freya in her I'm-the-only-adult-for-miles-around-aren't-I tone. I made a face and proceeded to look up at the stars again.

"Oh please. I spent _months_ around the bad guys. I'm about the best authority on how to treat them the resistance has…"

 _ **… aboard the Finalizer…** _

"Hey Phasma… want some hot chocolate…?"

"What?"

"I know. I'm surprised too," I said, looking at the drink dispenser in disbelief, hoping this wasn't a trick the machine played on me just to help the First Order with its evil quota's. Because right now I couldn't imagine anything as evil as denying me access to chocolate – especially after getting my hopes up like this.

"Is this another rouse to get me to take my helmet off…?" she asked suspiciously.

"Yes. It's also very, _very_ good," I said with a dreamy smile after taking that first sip. "Seriously, you should get some. You seem to be having a pretty bad day. Everyone who takes this First Order thing seriously is having one," I said, looking at the dispenser thoughtfully.

"Whatever you just thought of doing, you probably shouldn't…" she said sounding genuinely worried. Whatever the expression on my face was she didn't like the look of it.

"Right. So I'll just go… You know, so you can take your helmet off in peace."

"Stay."

"What?" I said, blinking in surprise.

"You know you want to," she said as she reached for her helmet. "And I know what the alternative is, so I'd very much prefer if you stayed…"

"I wasn't…" I protested. And stopped once I realized she was actually doing it. After weeks of ignoring my not-so-subtle hints she actually took her helmet off as though it was no big deal. "See? Was that so hard…?" I grinned.

She just grabbed the cup from my hand and walked off in the direction of the nearest chair ignoring the "Hey, that one was mine," I called after her. So I just made myself another cup and went over to join her. Since she made it so clear she preferred it to me going with the plan A.

"I wasn't going to…" I began as I sat down.

"Yes you were."

"Well… yes. I was. What do you care…?" I smiled. "It's not like you'd really hate to see me thrown out of the airlock for pissing him off once too often. And please don't tell me it's because he's having a bad day. He deserves it. He deserves just years and _years_ of really bad days."

"You really hate him," she said with what was almost a smile. Whatever the joke was, I wasn't getting it.

"I'd really hate you too, but you just made it very hard. What's up with you people going all human on me today? First it's Kylo Ren and now you… What? Why are you smiling?" I frowned.

"Not _Darth Fanboy_ …?" she replied. "Not _Grandpa Issues_? What – did you run out of nicknames?"

"Never. But… I think something happened to my attitude when he bled all over me. Never knew that was a thing, but apparently it is. People are never more human than when you have to get their blood out of your favorite shirt…" I shrugged. And with smile that was probably bit on the wicked side I added "Maybe I should try to…"

"No, you really shouldn't," said Phasma stopping me before I could properly develop the evil plan that just occurred to me. "Drink your chocolate."

I did. That was one order I would never disobey, after all…

"So this is… nice. We should do this more often. Unless you're thinking I won't live long enough. Which you clearly do," I said, since her expression could only be described as skeptical. "Alright, what did he tell you? How exactly did I cross the line? I didn't even threaten him. The opposite, actually…"

"Just drink your chocolate," repeated Phasma.

"You know that when you say it like that it kind of makes me think it might be my last cup ever, right…?"

She didn't bother saying it again, just gave me a look. I shut up and drank my chocolate. "I won't tell anyone, by the way. Your secret's safe with me and all that."

"It's not a secret," she said only.

I smiled and managed not to say anything to ruin the mood for once. Just sat there and drank my chocolate. What with watching over an unconscious space wizard or further annoying a superior officer simply by existing, this did seem to be the best possible use of my time.

 ** _… in the Ileenium system…_**

"So are you going to explain the logic behind that completely mad plan or do we just guess…?" said Freya, ending my short-lived reminiscence. She seemed all kinds of furious, though it took me a second to remember what it was about.

"Is this still about Hux…?" I said, turning to grandma for confirmation.

"Everything seems to be about him, thorny. Even I could do with some justification," she said, though her voice sounded plenty amused. "If you have one, that is."

"It's been weeks. I needed to hate _someone_. Couldn't be Phasma – I could tell she didn't find me anywhere as annoying as she let on. Couldn't be Snoke because he might as well not be real for all we know… it's all very smoke and mirrors in that huge creepy room, you know. And then there's…"

"Right," said Freya, cutting my explanation short. "There's _Ben_ and we're not allowed to give him rude nicknames anymore."

"Yes," I said, giving her a warning look just in case she felt like adding a rude nickname for old times' sake. She only shook her head at my reaction.

"So you hate Hux because… Oh wait, this is just another manifestation of your problem with authorities, isn't it? You probably didn't even notice he was evil, you just didn't like he was giving you orders," said Freya, sounding like she was barely resisting a facepalm.

"You might have been right about that, way back when," I admitted. "But that changed. I started paying attention after the destruction of Starkiller. Believe it or not I did manage to pick up on the fact that there's something very wrong with him. And _I'm_ saying that which means he's probably a legitimate sociopath…"

" _After the destruction of Starkiller_ ," said Freya, sounding almost horrified. It seemed nothing I said had the power to get her to calm down and let me watch the stars in peace.

"Well I haven't seen him much on the base. Probably by design… And I was so busy all the time," I said, sounding just a little whiny. I might not bring this up a whole lot, but I was used to putting in twenty-five hour workdays while being the First Order's fixer. "It was only when we were running that we got any quality time. And that was after Elsa, so… you know… I was ready to get in someone's face about that as it was…"

"That better not be your way of saying you picked him randomly."

"I didn't pick him randomly," I said with a chuckle. "It was inevitable. I might have forgotten he existed for a few weeks there…"

I stopped talking, because it was starting to look that whatever comes out of Freya next will be in the form of a growl. And grandma was laughing again. Well, at least she wasn't talking about the force…

"You are unbelievable, you know," said Freya, sounding genuinely exhausted by this conversation. "And you actually made me see things from point of view of a First Order general, so thanks for that…"

"She said I'm unbelievable," I told grandma in the it's-meant-to-be-overheard whisper. "I don't think she knows I'll be taking it as a compliment."

"Have I told you how glad I am we got you back from the First Order…?" replied grandma with a smile.

"Not since yesterday, no…"

"Nowhere near as happy as the First Order is…" begun Freya. I punched her softly in the shoulder, forcing her to cut it off right there.

"You know I'm going back to First Order, right? They have something I want…"

"That sounded like you meant it to make sense. In which case you failed. Miserably. You better start explaining," said Freya.

I was happy to oblige. Something told me I'll just be adding to her headache by doing so – and over the last hour she managed to remind me just how much fun I used to have doing it, way back when, before we had war to fight and enemies with planet-destroying capabilities to worry about.


	16. Chapter 16

**_… shortly after arrival to the Resistance Base…_**

"So about this list," said the rebel captain who seemed still very much exhausted after our little debriefing. I looked up from the defective healing tank I was in process of dismantling, just to make sure it was really me he was talking to.

"Yes…?" I said in the not-sure-what-you-mean-but-let's-pretend-I-do tone.

"The list of names you gave us," he explained.

"Oh yes. _That_ ," I smiled. "What about it…?"

"I just spoke to your grandmother and she seems to be under the impression they're all people you met since the destruction of the Starkiller Base."

"Yeah," I nodded, not seeing the problem. "It's like this. I gave them names so they're mine now. Alright, yeah, that sounded evil… heard it as soon as I said it. It's still true, though."

"You _gave them names_ ," he repeated. Not really confused – more amazed than anything else. "Just how did that happen…?"

I smiled, putting down the component I've been trying to glare back into some semblance of functionality. If I was going to do this, it deserved my full attention. "Sit down. This is going to take a lot of context," I said. And to my surprise he did – he sat down on the floor opposite me with a this-better-be-good expression.

I took a breath. "So first of all the time scale. You need that, just to appreciate how awesome I am. Because at this point I'm still convinced I'm in the First Order for life and I'll only get to leave that ship when we arrive to Snoke's super-secret hideout. And I spent the first hour of our escape from Starkiller by yelling at Hux and not getting murdered for it, having a profound change of heart over Kylo Ren, locating a drink dispenser that could do hot chocolate and having this bromance moment with Phasma. That was the _first hour_ ," I repeated for emphasis. He did look appropriately impressed – under all his shock that was.

"What did you do with the other fourteen hours…?" he said, clearly ready to be further shocked.

"I might have gone around the ship ordering random Stormtroopers to take their helmets off – and when they did, assigning them names. Mainly just to see the look on their faces. Have you ever...? No, you probably haven't. It's quite the heartbreaking sight. In a good way though. But, you know… three hours of that and my hate for the First Order was back. I felt like doing some serious damage to them."

"I'm almost scared to ask," said the rebel. He did look almost scared. Almost. The amusement he clearly felt kind of ruined the effect.

"I left Aurora and Hans and Beast…"

"Beast?" he asked, now openly laughing.

"Yeah. He was really hairy and I was running out of ideas. Anyway – I left them to have a moment to digest it all. Everyone deserves a moment of peace as they're having an identity crisis. And I went looking for the viewing lounge or whatever you call it. You know – that one room with a really lovely view of the galaxy. I knew the Finalizer had to have one, obviously."

"Obviously," nodded the rebel, smiling.

"You know – for Hux. So he can glare at the universe. And I thought I had weird coping mechanisms," I shook my head. "Anyway. Hour five, I guess. I found Tiana. She helped me find my way around – and then scattered out of sight because that girl had some solid survival instinct, let me tell you. One if-looks-could-kill glare from Hux and she was gone."

"But of course you stayed…"

"Of course. I was looking for him, after all."

"Why…?" asked the rebel captain, clearly ready for an answer he won't be able to make any sense of.

I was just about to answer him, when I realized I couldn't. I didn't have an answer. "I'm not entirely sure. I just felt like yelling at someone and he was clearly just about the worst possible someone aboard. And… I've told you about my suicidal tendencies, right? I thought I might have," I said in answer to his nod. "Well, that was all really. Don't you ever feel like spending some quality time with your worst enemies? You know, knowing you're making their already pretty bad day a whole lot worse simply by existing and breathing the same air and…"

"You have issues," he replied, shaking his head.

"Yeah – but they look good on me. Anyway, there I was…"

 _ **… aboard the Finalizer, not long ago…** _

"Are you seriously glaring at the galaxy? What the hell, general…? Not a rhetorical question, by the way. I'd love an answer. Were you not hugged as a child…? Is that it?"

"What do you want?"

"The stars," I said with a shrug. "I want them so much I'm willing to share."

He didn't look like _he_ was willing to share, though. And here I was, once again not giving a damn about what he wanted. It was just about my favorite thing to do before I discovered I could actually trick Stormtroopers into showing me what they looked like if I gave an order confidently enough.

"Beautiful, isn't it…?" I said, ignoring everything from the murder in his eyes to the way he was clenching his fists. All of that seemed irrelevant next to the wonder that was this galaxy.

I took a few steps, stopping only after I got within an arm's reach. The last place I wanted to be, or so his glare seemed to suggest. I just smiled and turned my undivided attention to the starlit darkness we were traveling through.

This view was about the only thing that could make me to keep my constant inappropriate comments to myself. Even now, as I stood here with a mass murderer that showed no remorse whatsoever I found myself calmed by the sight. Reminded of all the other times, all the summer nights I spent looking up and just breathing, just... existing. Appreciating it all even as I wondered how the hell I was still alive to be taking in that wonderful sight when everything out of my mouth was an invitation to murder.

And just like that I remembered the explanation my grandma gave me once, when I breached the subject with her on a long ago summer night and part of me felt like crying.

"This might be the longest you've ever gone without talking," said Hux, making me realize I was just standing here in complete silence for minutes. I wasn't entirely sure he was wrong, so I just shrugged and kept my eyes on the stars.

"You know what might be the absolutely worst thing I've done since I began working for the wrong side in a galactic war…?" I said after I let a few more long, peaceful minutes pass in silence. "I never once tried to run. Oh, I know. It wouldn't have worked. Between the security on Starkiller and my absolute lack of stealth it would be just about the worst idea I ever had. Still, I should have tried."

"You should have," he agreed.

"You're only saying that because it would give you an excuse to have me killed."

He gave me a sideways look that made it clear that I guessed correctly. I just shook my head. "Doesn't excuse me in either case," I continued, speaking softly, more to the stars than to him. "I should have tried. I should be trying something right now. It's not like I have nothing to live for… there are people who love me..."

"Are there?" he said, sounding genuinely surprised. I rolled my eyes.

"Of course. I have a mother – loving me is her whole job. And grandma," I said, but quickly realized I needed to stop talking. Fast. Before the stars get any blurrier than they already were. "This probably makes you feel better, doesn't it…? That whatever you do doesn't just end with me. You made a whole bunch of people miserable for months now."

"I do enjoy seeing you suffer," he admitted.

Not really a new information – though I didn't expect he'll actually say it out loud. It was the kind of thing he usually only communicated in murderous glares.

"Right back at you, general," I smiled and turned my attention back to the stars.

 ** _… in the Ileenium system, not long after…_**

"So anyway, those were my next two hours. Then there was Alice and Sebastian and Timon. I grabbed some more chocolate. Had a moment with Megara. She seemed really nice. This close to breaking out of the conditioning…" I stopped, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong. The rebel captain was giving me a really weird look. "What?" I asked.

"Two hours?"

"About. How is that the part that impresses you?" I frowned.

"It's two hours longer than I ever spent hanging out with a war criminal."

"Oh. Good point. Also it wasn't like that. It was part of my evil plan, you know. People have harder time executing someone they spent some quality time trading exposition with. I'm pretty sure it's part of why I'm still alive," I said distractedly. "Not the whole of it, obviously. I think he might have had some evil plan of his own in letting me get away. Can't quite figure it out. But I will. It's just a matter of time."

"I have no idea why I always believe you when you say stuff like that," said the rebel, shaking his head.

"Yes you do. You know I'm the best expert on the First Order you have. I've been there. All those people you have psychological profiles for? I've met them. Called them something rude, probably."

He didn't answer, though that was an answer in itself. And just as he got up, ready to leave me to keep glaring at uncooperative machinery I realized there was something I was meaning to ask him. "So… I'm not exactly combat ready," I began. "But I need to be to join in all this fun we're having. So how do I go from here to whatever I need to be to be allowed to carry a weapon…?"

"Are you asking me for recommendation for combat training…?" he asked in disbelief. Clearly he did _not_ see this coming.

"Yeah. _That_. That's what I need. Combat training," I said, nodding vigorously.

"I'll… see what I can do."


	17. Chapter 17

**_… on a starlit night in a galaxy far, far away…_**

"You know you'll make a great mom one day," I told Freya. "That was the most perfect listen-here-young-lady expression I've ever seen."

She gave me an answer in a form of a glare. And grandma was laughing again, of course.

"Can you please tell her that I refuse to take her along on a mission, whether or not she knows how to handle herself in a fight?" said Freya to gran in that juvenile I'm-not-talking-to-you-but-I-want-you-to-know way. "It's not her combat training that is the issue here. It's that she doesn't seem to know how _enemies_ work."

"Have you ever had an enemy? Don't give me that look, I'm being serious. Have you ever – _ever_ – hated anyone so much that you got over that basic, primal must-kill-now reaction…? Have you ever found yourself thinking about the whole thing clinically, forgetting what is it that you most want to do and focusing instead on the worst possible fate for him…? _That's_ how enemies work. That's how _revenge_ works. You forget what you most want to do and do what needs doing to make sure he spends the rest of his life in hell. The perfect, custom made hell… Oh what? Did that sound evil?"

"Yes," answered Freya, not even bothering to soften the blow.

"Which is why you'll need her around if you actually ever get around to going after the First Order high ranks," said grandma before I could point it out myself. "Oh yes, she sounds like a sociopath when she's describing what she's going to do once we have him in custody – but in the heat of the battle she'll be the calmest person around. And there will be nothing she won't do to fulfill the mission."

"See," I said, just a little petulantly. "Grandma gets it."

"You don't get to live to be eighty in this galaxy without picking up an enemy or two," she smiled in reply.

"You know what? I think I'm good. I don't need to understand what it's like to have enemies. Not on personal level where things get all weird and emotionally exhausting. I'm doing just fine with a big, faceless organization trying to turn the galaxy into this totalitarian nightmare…" said Freya shaking her head. "Let's… change the subject."

"Can we even do that?" I grinned. "I mean this _is_ the resistance. Isn't the war the only thing there is to discuss…? How we're going to win the war and what we're going to do after the war and how we're pretty sure it's the fault of the force that we even have to have these huge ideological battles all the time…?"

"Stop complaining about that, will you? It's that kind of a galaxy. If we didn't fight over the force we'd just find something else to fight over," said Freya. "And don't even think about going _as a former…_ "

" _As a former prisoner of war_ ," I said, just to hear her groan, "I can complain about whatever the hell I want."

We fell back into contented silence after that. I liked the sound of it so much I actually kept my mouth shut for minutes on end. In the end it was grandma that ended it. "So just out of curiosity… what _are_ your plans after the war…?"

"Are you asking me just because I can never go home again?" I smiled, though this really shouldn't be funny. "You know, because the First Order burned my house down?"

"Oh you know exactly what she's planning. She'll start a support group for former Stormtroopers and she'll be so sarcastic about it you won't even notice it's actually an incredibly altruistic thing to do," said Freya, eyes fixed at the night sky. She sure knew me well for someone who spent so much time complaining about how little sense I was making.

"That's… definitely on the list," I confirmed. "You know, one day. Though we really shouldn't be discussing any _after the war_ scenarios. We'll jinx it."

I was laughing even as I heard myself say it, and they joined as I knew they would. That was one way to fight it. Keeping our sense of humor. The one thing we knew the opposition was missing.

"Oh we're winning this war alright," said Freya when she got her breath back. "Just look at us. We're unstoppable. We're led by Leia freaking Organa. We have some awesome pilots on our team – and _yes_ , when I say that I do mean me. We already have one renegade Stormtrooper, so it's only a matter of time before others follow. _And_ our scariest people are way scarier than their scariest people…"

"You say the sweetest things," I said, though she didn't seem to mean that last comment as a compliment. Too late. I was taking it as one anyway. "You think I'm scary now? Give me a few weeks to build up some muscle and learn how not to trip over myself in a battle."

"I don't think that'll change a thing. That's not the kind of scary you are."

Well, she wasn't wrong about that. I was a weapon of psychological warfare, pure and simple – high time to acknowledge it, since I've been used that way several times. By my enemies. So I was making sure that next time I'd be using my destructive powers it will be for the good of the galaxy. Though I'd rather be doing that while armed, just in case.

"Do you think we'll get medals? I mean… knowing that a smuggler has one kind of takes some of the prestige away, but still…"

Freya was laughing before I got too far with that and it took her a while to actually articulate that it was the idea of seeing me being serious for the few minutes the ceremony would take she found so amusing. "Plus you can't be wearing your _frak you too_ shirt while getting a medal. _Or_ your first order jacket. I mean you seriously need to stop wearing that thing anyway, it's weirding everyone out. And don't say…"

"I'm wearing it ironically," I said. Again. Somehow I didn't think I sold her on it.

"Yeah. We're definitely the kind of people who should have medals," grinned Freya. And off we were, laughing again. There was just something about that whole mental image that made it very hard not to.

"So how is the combat training going anyway," asked me Freya after a moment. "Regretting it yet?"

"Of course I am. It was a terrible idea. I hurt everywhere and I discovered I have all these muscles I didn't even know I had – apparently haven't used them in years. It's _not_ fun."

"But you're still doing it."

"Obviously," I said in my best don't-even-think-about-trying-to-stop-me tone.

"Do I even want to know why?"

"Element of surprise," I replied. "Me turning into a badass is the last thing they'll ever expect so that's exactly what I'm going to do. I know, I know, I'm plenty badass already. Maybe the word I'm looking for is _warmachine_ …"

"Well in that case you really better have the force on your side. Because I don't see how you expect to turn _this_ ," she said with a gesture encompassing my figure, "into approximation of battle-ready."

" _That's not how the force works_ ," said grandma before Freya could get too far with that train of thought. And next thing I knew I was laughing so hard I completely forgot I should be offended by Freya's last comment.

I was actually doing really good, if I said so myself. All the confused looking rebels who clearly didn't see this character development coming I passed by on my morning runs made the subsequent aching muscles almost worth it. And then there was the end-game to focus on. I had to do this because there was only one thing more important than me surviving this war…

"And she's looking evil again," said Freya glancing at me. "You know how eerie this is getting for those of us who have to look at you? I can _always_ tell when you're thinking about him. It's like having force-powers. Except creepier."

"There's nothing creepier than having force-powers," I said dismissively.

"And now you're thinking about Ben. And _I can tell_. And I shouldn't be able to."

"Have you ever considered that maybe…" I stopped talking. Grandma just cleared her throat in that meaningful way that told us that if we won't cut it off she'll be forced to say it again. And I wasn't sure I could take it if she did.

"Right," said Freya, rolling her eyes. "That's not how the force works…"

"Oh, the force… It's probably all a lot of simple tricks and nonsense," I said with a yawn. It was almost nearing dawn after all. "What…?"

"You had a Sith digging through your head…!"

"Oh yeah. Completely forgot about that," I grinned at her exasperation. "What? It was really long ago and it _is_ the kind of thing you try to suppress just so you can go on pretending you live in a sane galaxy."

"Except _we don't_."

"Right," I said. She did have a point.

I looked up at the stars again, enjoying the last few moments I had before they would start fading and I would be left with another very long day to spend trying to convince myself that my muscles don't hurt that much and I can do this and all the other outright lies I needed to believe so much right now.

"And she's thinking about Hux again," said Freya before grandma could shush her.

"Well of course she is. Haven't you been paying attention?"


	18. Chapter 18

**_… long time ago…_**

"I believe it's just exhaustion, captain. She should be back to normal once she gets some rest…"

Those were not the most reassuring words to hear first thing in the morning. Well, first thing after waking up – who knew what time it was, anyway…? I haven't seen the sun for what felt like at least a week, if not more. And on top of that I woke up in the med bay. After not remembering falling asleep. That probably meant I just collapsed somewhere after putting in yet another twenty-five hours long workday.

I opened one eye to survey the room. I was not surprised to find Phasma in full armor leaning against the nearest wall. I felt like pretending I'm still nowhere near conscious enough to be dealing with this, but unfortunately she caught the change in my expression. "Oh what…?" I said as she walked closer to the cot I was stretched out on. "You look ready to give me a speech. It better not be about how I shouldn't be doing stuff like this, because last time I checked stuff like this was exactly why you people took me in the first place. To work until I drop, right?"

"Wrong," she said, sounding a lot less angry than I expected.

"Whatever you say, cap. We both know I better keep supplying you with reasons not to shoot me if I want to live to see the sunlight again," I said and closed my eyes again. I was clearly not up to having this conversation. I needed another nap or two before getting back to some semblance of normal.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" asked Phasma. And it almost sounded like a serious question, so I decided to give her a serious answer.

"What gave me away? The way I have of not taking safety precautions? The fact I tried to start a fist fight with a radar technician the other day…? Or was it the fact that I stopped eating three days ago, to protest that you refuse to supply me with the kind of food I need for my brain to function properly…?"

"First Order is a military organization. Do you actually imagine you can bully us into supplying you with _sweets_ …?"

"No. But that alone won't stop me from trying," I said, raising myself up on an elbow. As pleasant as this was I couldn't just lie here all day. I had work to do – places to go, machinery to fix… people to insult… "How long was I out anyway…?"

"Four hours."

"Oh. Back to work then," I said looking down at what I was wearing. "The second I'll get back into my uniform. And whichever of you pervs had the idea to help me into a white, sacrificial robe…"

"That's just protocol…" said one of the human medics in a defensive tone that told me I had the culprit. I gave him a you-sure-you-want-to-go-with-that-one look before starting to look around for my pants.

"Sure. Protocol. I see all the other patients here are wearing damsel-in-distress nightgowns," I said pointedly, nodding to the severely burned trooper in the next cot. I was the only person in the room dressed up like I was about to be sacrificed to appease a space monster and he knew it.

"You're going to need a new uniform anyway. This one was burnt in a few places…" he protested.

"That's part of my look. Oh fine, bring me a new one then. Quickly though. The longer it takes you the longer I have to compose a sexual harassment complaint…" I said with a wicked grin before turning my attention back to Phasma. "Oh what? Why do you always stand over me and act like you're taking everything I do personally…? So I work until I can't anymore. Nothing to do with you."

"You're a threat to yourself and others," replied Phasma.

"Why do I have the feeling it's the second part that bothers you more…? You know I can tell when you're frowning at me, right? I can't believe you're standing there and judging me. For something that should actually endear me to the First Order, come to think of it. I mean this shows some serious commitment – even if I'm only doing it so I don't get shot first time I give you people the slightest excuse."

"If we were going to do that, you'd be dead a week ago," she pointed out.

"Well yeah – but the only reason you didn't is because it's so hard to dig graves in ground that's frozen solid. Even shallow ones."

She had no answer to that, or so it seemed. Which was great, because the medic just came back into the room with a new uniform. I could swear this one had slightly more severe cut, if that was even possible. And it was definitely a lot darker shade of black.

"You know, normally I can tell what you're thinking," I said, letting the ridiculous sacrificial garb of a nightgown slip to the ground and kicking it aside for good measure. "But I'm kind of struggling right now. A hint…?"

"We might have to have an emergency meeting about you," said Phasma in a tone that sounded a good deal more annoyed than I expected. "Again."

"Oh…" I said. The statement surprised me so much it actually made me shut up for a second. Just a second, though. "Just out of curiosity… what happened at the last one?"

"We were told not to shoot you just for speaking your mind. If we can't handle a single civilian with a little attitude we need to rethink how well our conditioning works, apparently."

I grinned as I struggled with the jacket that was once again a size too small. I needed to have a talk with whoever designed these, honestly… "That is a good point, though. Also I saw what you did there. Next time I'll need a nap I'll just take one instead of having a double dose of stimulants and working on… I'm not going to kill myself over this. Dying from exhaustion as I work for a cause I oppose on principle, that's about the most idiotic way to go. Don't worry. Not the death I have planned out."

She didn't reply. I told her anyway, of course. "I'll drown in moonlight, strangled by my own bra," I said with a smirk as I walked out of the med bay. It would be a very impressive exit line, too, if only I wasn't immediately caught by Phasma and pointed in the right direction.

If I didn't know better I'd think she couldn't believe it. A whole week on Starkiller and I still didn't know my way around. Well, if she had a problem with it, she could always bring it up on their next emergency meeting. One I obviously won't be invited to…

 ** _… a long time later, in the Ileenium system…_**

"That's all very interesting, but what I actually asked you was why are you attacking that punching bag like he murdered your father right before your eyes," said the rebel captain who has been my patron ever since that first debriefing right after my escape from the First Order.

So that was his original question, then… I somehow managed to forget it, as I got busy retelling that particular episode from my past. But now that I remembered, I realized I _did_ have an answer for him. "I'm punching it this hard because I take this seriously. I mean look how seriously I took a job I hated… And this one I actually like. A lot," I said and punched again. Harder.

Inflicting pain, even in this metaphoric way, made me forget just how much pain I was in. Who knew that getting in shape after years of not doing my own heavy lifting and living mostly on sweets and spite would be this hard…?

"You know… if it turns out that only the heroes get to have any good fights around here after I went into these lengths, I'll be really pissed," I said, seeing that he wasn't leaving even though he got the answer he was after.

"We're all heroes, you know," he said, though he clearly knew what I meant.

"We're not all outright magic, though. And the rest of us mere mortals deserve an opportunity to kick some ass too," I said, slightly out of breath. There was part of me that felt certain I did my best for today – yet here I still was, refusing to stop. "I don't even want a fancy weapon. Or a proper battle, really. Just one chance to get all of this out of my system, you know…"

"I do," he said. "It was literally the first thing I put into my report."

"Oh…?" I stopped my attack and looked at him with some curiosity.

" _Emotionally unstable. Do not recommend her for active service_ ," he said. I wasn't entirely sure he was joking either – in which case, great judge of character. If the First Order had someone like him they'd just dispose of me back when they were busy burning down my neighborhood.

"So how come I'm on the list now…? Because I _am_ on the list. I've been eavesdropping on strategic meetings since I got here. I know I'm being considered for field assignments."

"There is one thing we can absolutely trust you to do. Isn't that why you're here, getting it all out of your system so you don't have to worry about it when you're actually on a mission…?" he asked.

"Part of it," I admitted. "Also I refuse to suppress my emotions. That's a very Jedi thing to do. And just look at their track record."

"So what is all this anger, anyway?"

"You're not going to like it," I said, as I briefly considered not telling him. "Alright, it's like this…"

"You miss them," he guessed.

" _What_? No. Absolutely not. Who told you that…? I _almost_ miss Phasma, sure. Sometimes. Very rarely. We had this almost friendly kind of enmity… And sure, that doesn't sound like an argument for taking me along for missions, but think about it. It'll give you the element of surprise. She'll hesitate before shooting me. I'm almost sure. And that's your I-don't-know-why-I-believe-you-but-I-do expression, so I know you think so too," I said, studying him.

"I do believe you. Just don't ask me to justify it. It makes absolutely no sense."

"Must be the force, then," I said, going back to punching with renewed energy.


	19. Chapter 19

_**… in the Ileenium system…** _

"Nope. I'm good," I said when I glanced Freya in the doorway. She was the third person who tried to bribe me with a cup of chocolate. That's how uncomfortable I was making everyone with all this training after only a week of really overdoing it. My mom who spent years complaining about all the sugar I was stuffing myself with all the time just left half an hour ago after trying the same trick on me.

"Oh no," said Freya smiling into the cup in her hands. "Go get your own, this one's mine."

"So that's the evil plan you're going to go with? Just standing there drinking it as I…"

"… mutilate some furniture?" she finished for me. "I thought we told you to stick to punching bags. This is a rebellion. We don't have budget to replace what you break."

I didn't answer. I did look around to find what I broke this time, just in case she wasn't just messing with me. Because that storage compartment did look a little more angular last time I checked.

"Are you here to talk some sense into me?" I said, narrowing my eyes. But that didn't seem to be it, judging by her unconcerned expression.

"I'm here to watch. This is quite entertaining, you know… I mean look at you, all coordinated. I bet you sleep with a ray gun under your pillow now – _and_ you can use it too."

"Correct on both accounts," I admitted, not seeing what the big deal was. I did say I was going to get combat ready. How were people not used to me doing exactly what I said I would by now…? It was my specialty after all. "Also everyone sleeps with a weapon under their pillow. That's just common sense. This is a rebel base. We can get surprise attacked at any moment. _Grandma_ sleeps with a ray gun under her pillow."

"Oh, she did that long before we joined up," said Freya with a grin. I wasn't entirely sure she was wrong.

"So… what? Are you going to just stand there until I agree to take a break?"

"Of course not. I'm going to sit down," she said and headed for the comfiest chair in my room. I rolled my eyes. I didn't know what her plan was, but it was not going to work. I was not going to slow down, dammit. Why was it alright for all the magic orphans to disappear somewhere where their only job was to train, but when I tried it I was being antisocial…?

"So here's the funny thing. I somehow assumed you'll be wearing _that_ expression. You know the one… the slightly evil look you get sometimes when you take a second to look at the stars and wonder whether your arch nemesis is doing the same right at that moment…"

"My arch nemesis…?" I said, making a face. "Really…?"

"Yeah. That's the term we agreed on during an emergency meeting you weren't invited to. You were too busy learning how to put your weapon together in the dark or something, anyway…" said Freya before taking a moment to have another sip of chocolate.

"Oh," I said, seeing what this was all about. "You don't actually mind, do you? Just checking I'm not doing this for some weird, twisted psychological reason."

"Someone should. Except everyone is so focused on you turning into this lethal weapon," she said with a vague gesture in my direction. "If I didn't know better I'd say that is by design. All one big misdirection. But that might be giving you too much credit."

"You forget – I _am_ a weapon of psychological warfare."

"Says the sociopath in the charge of the First Order. Allegedly. We still don't know that's why he sent you back, you know… Maybe he just grew sick of your constant smartass comments," grinned Freya.

"Nah. He'd just shoot me if that was all there was to it..."

"Whatever. _Not_ getting sucked into that conversation again. Your weird preoccupation with one of our enemies is between you and the psychoanalyst we definitely must get you."

"How dare you," I said, pretending to be offended by the very notion. "I am preoccupied with _all_ of our enemies."

Freya just shook her head and finished her chocolate in one long swallow. "Yeah. In a very specific weird way for each one. I should probably judge you for it but… well, who knows if I didn't develop this particular _syndrome_ if I spent three months stuck with them. Though I like to believe that my final judgement on Kylo Ren wouldn't be _he just needs a hug_."

"Last time I saw him he absolutely needed one, though," I shrugged. "And that's all I can recall anymore. Memory is a funny thing."

"Tell me about it. Every time I try to remember the fight you used to put up when someone tried to drag you out of bed before noon all I can see is you waking up your martial arts tutor at five in the morning because you didn't feel like waiting for your lesson to start… Not to mention you beating the crap out of him," she added, clearly having a hard time keeping her expression serious.

"That's on him. No one calls me _my young padawan_ and gets to keep his teeth," I shrugged.

"I'm not criticizing, understand. I'm all kinds of impressed. After all, the sooner you feel battle ready, the sooner you stop weirding everyone out with all this training. It's not like you're the one who'll be involved in the big, upcoming _this will decide the fate of the galaxy_ fight," pointed out Freya. "Someone else is already taking care of all that."

"That's not how this works and you know it. The fight you care about the most is the most important fight in the galaxy. It's hard to give much of a damn about Siths and Jedis, what with most of us never even having met any our whole life. I had one digging through my brain and I still don't give a damn about the balance of the force."

"I'm well aware what's the only thing you give a damn about," said Freya, shaking her head. "And if you want my opinion, you look more than ready to beat him senseless next time you run into him, so how about you slow down with the training."

"Not happening. Training is good for you. Gives you stuff to do while others are sorting out the galaxy… helps you focus on your breathing and stuff…"

"Oh, you know that when he told you to focus on your breathing he was just messing with you, right?" grinned Freya. "Who cares if you breathe correctly as long as you kick ass…?"

"That's what _I_ said," I said, agreeing wholeheartedly. Of course then he called me a padawan and one thing led to another. Anyway, I was as good as finished with the martial arts part of my training now. Defeating one's teacher seemed to be the universal sign of readiness… and having one's teacher scared of them probably translated into being the kind of threat even the Supreme Leader should be worrying about.

"Have you ever considered that we might have too much other important rebel stuff to do to actually go out of our way to capture Hux…?" said Freya, studying my expression carefully.

"Of course. That's why I have a plan B."

"Oh, let me guess… You're learning to fly next, aren't you? So you can steal a ship and do this on your own. To which I have to say _don't you dare_. Flying is my thing. If you need a lift behind the enemy lines _you tell me_ ," she said seriously. "And you better have actual plan when you do, instead of just vague ideas and too much anger clouding your judgement."

"I'll have a plan. What do you think I'm working on while I'm focusing on my breathing?"

"Planning out what torture you'll inflict on him once you have him locked up in a windowless room?"

"You know I had that all planned out since before I got away from the First Order," I said, _not_ surprising her.

"So this is it now, isn't it? Just… waiting for what happens next. For months, probably, since we're all kind of dependent on when a teenager finishes her Jedi training. And all that time you'll be this scary, bizarro version of yourself, because you just had to begin taking all this seriously. For just about the worst reason there is, too. You do know the rest of us fight the First Order because they're oppressive and totalitarian and…"

"That's why I fight them too," I lied. Freya outright laughed at it... which was fair enough. "Oh, fine, so I don't care about all that nearly as much as I should. I still care about it, though. All those brainwashed Stormtroopers…? I met them. They're part of why I'm taking this so seriously."

" _A part of it_ ," said Freya in a tone that suggested there was something really wrong with that and if I asked her to explain I would just be making it worse. I shrugged. There was clearly nothing I could say – not if I hoped to avoid her I'm-judging-you expression.

"Oh but when our adorable new Jedi is all ready," I said, trying to change the subject. "Things will get interesting… I mean they always do when force sensitive people try to do their balancing act. And we'll get to be there to see it. That's something to look forward to."

"Don't even say stuff like that…" said Freya, clearly meaning it. "You _know_ I can hardly wait. I mean how long can it possibly take…? Can we calculate it? Does anyone know how long was Luke doing flips all over Dagobah before he was ready…?"

I shrugged, having a hard time hiding my amusement at what was clearly serious torment for her. Instead I sat down on the arm of her chair and let her lean against my shoulder. There was something reassuring I probably should be saying, but I couldn't quite make myself. If I told her the wait probably won't be that long and we'll have a whole new adventure to go on before we know it, I'd be feeling like the worst liar in the galaxy.

"Yeah, it's going to be a while before things get interesting around here again," I admitted. "But it's not like we don't have anything to do in the meantime."

"I have no revenge to plot, remember…?"

"Good. That leaves you with plenty of free time then… I could use a spotter."

"You are _not_ drawing me into your training," she said, sounding outraged by the very notion.

"Oh come on. It's what all the cool kids are doing now," I grinned. "It's gonna be fun. I'll give you a piggy back ride…"

"What? Why? How is that helpful in any way…?"

"No idea," I shrugged. "It's just how we do things in this galaxy."


	20. Epilogue

**_... long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…_**

"I'd ask you if you missed me, but you'd just lie again. And _don't_ cut the connection. I'm not trying to get your system to malfunction again. That could only ever work once anyway…"

"So what are you trying to do?"

"Isn't it obvious? Oh. I guess not. I'm just checking up on you. You know, to see if you didn't lose a limb or something since the last time we spoke. And don't give me that look, that's a reasonable worry to have in this galaxy."

"Worry…?"

"Yes. Worry. I do that. _A lot_. People have been complaining. So can you please show me you still have both hands …?"

"I didn't get my arm cut off."

"Good. What? I mean that. That's good news to me."

"Is that because you're planning to cut off my limbs yourself?"

"No. It's weirder than that. I mean don't get me wrong, I'm absolutely a threat. One you should be taking seriously. I'm just not that obvious... I can hurt you without ever laying a finger on you."

"I see. You're just calling to threaten me. _Again._ "

"That better not be your way of saying you don't find me terrifying."

"Terrifying? Aren't you the person that will do anything to keep me alive…?"

"I am. I'm also the person that will make sure you will spent a lot of time wishing I didn't… I know. That sounded evil. _Really_ evil, apparently – you look ready to offer me my old job back…"

"Don't flatter yourself. What the… Just _what_ are you doing in the Dagobah system…?"

"Well that was _fast_. I'm impressed. Don't bother sending anyone, though. I'll be gone long before they get here. You don't think I'd risk giving you enough time to trace my location if there was any chance you could catch up with me, do you? I think we've already established that I'm _really good_ at what I do."

"Last time I checked what you did was fixing broken machinery."

" _No_ , that was the thing you had me doing, clearly not quite understanding what my actual skillset was. Well, you're going to find out what an oversight that was one of these days. But hey, send a unit or two if you feel like it. Let's see how long the conditioning lasts after a day or two in the swamp of character development. That's what Dagobah is all about."

"I see."

"No, you really don't. But you will."

"Is this something you're going to do a lot? Letting me know you're still alive and well and very helpful to my enemies?"

"Yes. If you have a problem with that… well, that's on you, really. You shouldn't have let me go."

"You're not wrong about that."

"Last sixty seconds before I have to make the jump. Anything you want to tell me, here's your last chance."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Liar."

"Why are you smiling…?"

"Oh, so many reasons. I can always find one – you know, like you with glaring. And there you go again... Fifty seconds. You sure there's nothing you want to get off your chest, general?"

"Anything I want to say to you I will say face to face when we have you in custody again."

"Oh, we're going to have a conversation through bars all right. But I don't think it will go quite as you picture it."

"We shall see."

"Is that your way of saying you have no more idea about what comes next than I do…? I'm going to take that as a yes. Isn't the wait just the worst? Knowing it's all up to these force-sensitive people and we'll have to pick up the pieces when they're done and… _Anyway_ … Thirty-five seconds, so just say it. You know you want to. And it might be your last chance. This is a very dangerous galaxy, after all… I still have no idea how I survived that snake infested swamp down there…"

"What were you doing there, anyway?"

"Classified. So very classified. And yes, I'm only telling you this because I know how much not knowing will bother you… You're probably sending some troops here as we speak. Well, if they come back all rebellious, you'll know who to thank. And yes, this is me revealing to you my evil plan."

"I really..."

"Hate me? I know. But hey... use it. _Let the hate flow through you_."

"This isn't over."

"Promise?"


End file.
